


The High Road

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Partner Betrayal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A thief in the City of Chains and an elf to be sold off. How will Roy's resolve to his criminal ways be tested?
Relationships: Merrill (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1 - A Thief In The City of Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revised as of 6/20/20
> 
> So, I wasn't really happy with how the story looked, and haven't been since I uploaded this chapter. I felt like I lost my touch with writing after I began focusing all my attention on my New Vegas modding project back in the beginning of the year 2020. So I brought on one of my voice actors to proof read the story and control its quality. He did a rather great job at revising this one and keeping it interesting with his new additions and recommendations for older parts of the writing.
> 
> So, without further adieu, enjoy a revised The High Road - Chapters 1-4. As of this Author's Note's writing, chapter 5 is in the works and will look better than how these looked when they first came out. :D

He watched as the nobles passed by him.

Flaunting nobles sauntering about like the rich fools they were.

Some had honor with their wealth. They were a rare few among the Kirkwall nobles. And even then, to the observer, they were no different than a pompous noble who cared little for those under him. A noble was conniving and a noble was greedy, at least in the mind of the observer.

Slavery was rife in the underworld, but if one thought about it, slavery was rife in the noble world just the same. Indentured servants and the like. Except it's legal. Legal, but equally unfair.

But that didn't matter much to the observer. He found it somewhat ridiculous, watching the servant elf girls pulling the luggage of a noble on the move all alone, but it didn't bother him enough to say something.

He understood well where the money was, and knew when best to take advantage of an opportunity. He was not above slavery, and definitely not above thievery.

Especially if it was from filthy nobles.

Thus the reason he was here.

In Hightown.

Where the nobles make their home and go about their daily business alongside their servants and merchants.

He did his best to look like a mercenary seeking a job - he had the look of one. A grey headband holding back his dark brown hair from drooping below his forehead. Splintmail leggings and a chest piece to match with a black scarf tied around his neck. A small, strong shortsword napping in a rough leather sheath. Then, finally, a pair of ragged boots he purchased some time ago from a Fereldan merchant.

To any passive observer, he was just a mercenary looking for a noble to hire him. No one thought any different. Even the guards had let their guard down.

But that was their folly. He was a true-blooded thief, and all he was looking for was an easy mark.

But the nobles who passed by didn't look like easy marks. Some had entourages, some didn't have easy to access coin purses, and some passed by with guards. Not a single noble all day appeared worth the risk.

He huffed deeply and shook his head. It seemed as if this wasn't going to be easy.

But he knew this already. He was ready for a fight. Even if it was with the guards. All he would have to do is outrun them and make it to the stairs that connected Hightown to the lower districts. From there, it would be smooth sailing.

All he had to do now was find a ripe mark.

Then, as he took in a deep unsatisfied breath, he spotted her.

A wealthy looking woman in fine blue silks with bright blonde hair. She was sauntering by with an eager look on her face. As if she had a purpose to be out today. She looked at him as she passed by, and nodded in his direction.

"Goodday, ser warrior." She greeted him as she passed.

And on her belt, he noticed, a fat looking, juicy coin purse tied with a flimsy looking piece of string.

He smiled and lowered his head, keeping an eye on her as she walked off. She made it about four feet before he turned his head and looked for any oncoming guards.

But there were none. This particular street was empty, all save for him and the woman.

He looked back at her, and slowly he pulled his scarf above the bridge of his nose.

She was none the wiser.

He waited for her to get a certain distance away so he could approach unnoticed.

"One...two….three…." He slowly counted. Counting away the seconds it took for her to move away. "...five….six….seven…"

Seven was the lucky number.

He ran for her, sprinting as fast as he could. His boots made loud thuds on the bricks of the pavement, and she turned to look at the source. But by the time she caught a full view of him it was too late. He was already upon her.

He grabbed the pouch and pushed her to the ground before darting off in the opposite direction. She yelped in surprise and landed on her rear, dazed and confused. For a second she just held her head, trying to comprehend what had just happened. By the time her bearings caught up with her the man was gone. He had made a sharp turn down another road, disappearing from her line of sight.

Nearby, but gone all the same.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Just a warm breath as the surprise of the occurrence surged within her mind. She couldn't say anything, at least not at first. As she sat there in her daze, another voice spouted out. Heavy metal thuds on bricks accompanied the voice, and she turned to see who was approaching.

It was a guard. Donning the usual Kirkwall guard uniform, helmet and all.

"Ma'am!" The guard called out to her, running to meet her as fast as his armor would allow. "Are you alright? What happened?"

She tried to tell him what happened, but all that came out was confused grunts and gasps. She didn't know what to do. This was totally unexpected. The man had looked so nice. So gentlemanly, like any regular of Hightown.

But looks can deceive. Her coin purse was the price of that lesson today.

"Ma'am?" The guard tried to retain her focus, but he failed. She was far too lost in her confused state to listen.

She simply looked back to where the man had gone, and lowered her head.

She had her doubts the guards could catch him now.

* * *

"Easy peasy, lemon squeezy…." He muttered, tossing and catching the coin purse in his hands. The street was near empty, save for a few indecent looking men. The jingling of the coin purse caused a few heads to turn but these men - armed with pigstickers - dared not take on an armored man such as him.

It was late.

The guards didn't pursue him from Hightown. In fact, no one even knew that a crime had occurred.

Save for the victim.

He had never had a robbery like that go so easily before, and he almost couldn't believe his luck. Usually Hightown was heavily guarded, with a guard on every street and every corner. But it seems lately that the guards have been getting lax up there. Not even the wealthy are safe from incompetant guards, contrary to what they often like to believe.

He made a mental note to return there for a future job.

He grinned, storing the pouch on his belt as he strolled, alone, through the dark, dusty streets of Lowtown.

The merchants have all packed up for the night, and the guards are hiding in their guard posts. Scared of the Coterie and other like minded criminals and ne'er-do-wells who take over the streets at night.

This man, who had robbed a defenseless wealthy woman in Hightown under the guise of an idle mercenary, was a minor, yet well connected, Coterie thief and murderer. He was young, but skilled with a blade. He was unflinching in the face of danger, and he never thought ill of the work he did. It was his life, after all. The only life he ever knew.

All he had ever known.

This man was named Roy. Roy Barnaby.

And today he had stolen two whole sovereigns.

Roy was overjoyed with this fact, laughing while he opened the pouch to discover what was inside. He had never really held this much money all at once before as his gang of criminals often took their share of whatever he stole. Usually silvers or bits, ranging from the twenties to the fifties. When all was said and done, he'd be left with a measly sum of five of whatever he stole, usually.

But this time, having stolen gold, he'd likely not have anything out of it. The boss would get a kick out of what he stole, but would no doubt get greedy and take it all for himself as he often does for anything of real value. White steel armor, silverite weapons, elven bows, and not least, the gold of any haul.

But, as Roy was returning to his hideout, he figured something.

He never appreciated the greed his boss showed whenever he came into something of worth. He never got a share of it. It all went, supposedly, into the gang's funds for better equipment and supplies as well as travel costs in the event they had to leave the city.

So he figured, if the boss was gonna take it all anyways, he might as well spend a little of it on himself and not say a word.

No one had to find out. Not even his good friend, Elroy. Just a little secret he could keep.

Like some others he had kept from his gang in the past.

On to The Hanged Man, a local tavern in Lowtown, he Roy went for a nice, evening meal. He had figured maybe a few drinks as well. It wasn't often he got to reward himself with brandy. Especially Antivan brandy. It would be a nice treat after the somewhat thrilling day he's had.

So when he finally arrived at the doorsteps to The Hanged Man, he stopped for a moment and glanced around his lonely street. A few lanterns lit the path all up and down the street and all around the corners. Some people were standing under one of the lanterns, armed and wearing nothing but leather. Roy took a second to glance them over, and one of them met his gaze slowly.

Roy turned away, uninterested in provoking trouble, and entered the establishment.

The air was very different inside the tavern. While it was as warm inside just as it was outside, it was also stained with the smell of pure alcohol, cooked food, and the ale-stained breath of the patrons who trussed in after a hard day's work. To any upperclassmen, this would be a revolting place to be in. But to Roy, there's no other place he'd rather be.

The Hanged Man was his home away from home. In a sense, that is.

Even though he frequents the place, he likes to keep a low profile in case any guards came looking for him. It wouldn't be the first time he's had guards on his back. The barkeep doesn't know him. The barmaid doesn't know him. Not even the other regulars know him.

He looked around to see if he could spot anybody in particular that appeared recognizable, but the patronage was rather the same as usual. Poor residents of Lowtown, elves from the alienage, dwarves from the merchant guild, off-duty templars and guards, and a scantily clad woman with a blue head rag was standing by the bar. It also appears that a whole set of tables in the far corner were occupied by a mercenary group as well. All the while a busty barmaid was running to and fro, handing out drinks, food, and taking orders like her life depended on it.

And it might as well. She, like every other living soul, needed a job in this city to stay afloat, else the proverbial tide take you.

Roy took in a deep breath of the stained air, and quickly let it all out with content. A large smile brewed, and he drew his stolen coin purse.

He took a seat at a small table nearest to the fire and undid his scabbard, setting it under the table for later retrieval. He had no need of it for now for he wasn't going to go looking for trouble.

Before Roy could even get properly settled, he heard a feminine voice behind him that startled him to no end. Above all the noisy laughter, singing, yelling, and chatter that deafened the tavern, this woman's voice seemed to be cut through it all.

"What can I get fer ya, luv?" She said. He turned around to see it was the waitress. Norah, her name was. Beloved by the patrons for her calm personality and the ease of which she handled her rather stressful job.

"Ah, yes. Could I get the feature stew?" Roy wasted no time in answering. His belly was grumbling something fierce. "And, err… Antivan brandy if you have it. If not, some good ol' fashioned ale will do."

"Gotcha. But the good brandy will cost you extra though. Twenty silvers. This stuff don't come cheap."

Roy smiled. He only had two gold pieces. He didn't want to waste time getting change either, so he simply took out a gold coin and passed it to her. A small smile on his face, with Norah staring at it with surprise.

"Keep the change for yourself. Buy a nice dress." He told her. She simply picked it up and looked it over for a solid moment before smiling a wide and toothy grin. It was quite cute to Roy, and he snickered a little before reminding her. "The brandy and stew, please?"

"Sure thing, luv…. Comin' right up."

She walked away, putting the coin in her backpocket and leaving Roy by his lonesome. By now he was starting to sweat a little from the heat inside the tavern. Splintmail didn't do much to keep one cool, but he toughed it out. He wiped a little sweat off his brow every now and again but he knew that when he got that cold brandy, the heat would be a thing of the past.

All Roy had to do now was keep wary for pickpockets. If anyone saw he had a sovereign still, some conniving bastards would steal what he had already stolen. With quick glances around the room,he kept the coin purse hidden underneath the table, out of view from anyone else in the tavern.

It wasn't too long before his order was brought to him, and with it a sense of happiness to the young man. Some say money can't buy happiness but he heartily disagreed. You just had to know what you wanted, and where to get it.

All he wanted was a nice night out, with good food and good drinks.

As he ate he watched the patrons of the tavern go about their own business. The guards and templars kept to themselves while the braggarts and drunks were all over the place. The mercenary group didn't stagger or flinch either at any trouble or confrontation. No one sat near them for the simple reason that they were scared. Even the guards and templars gave them a wide berth. Roy understood too. To him, those people looked like rough customers.

Every now and again his eyes would land on the scantily clad woman with tan skin near the bar. She wasn't drinking, she wasn't eating. She was simply there. As if she was waiting for something to happen. While it wasn't exactly his business, she was armed with unique looking daggers, and it didn't take a scholar to realize she was expecting trouble. But what kind of trouble was she expecting?

He took a swig of brandy and gave out a loud burp. A couple of nearby patrons looked at him, but then quickly laughed and went back to their individual businesses. Then Roy shook his head as he looked back at her.

"Just what is she waiting for….?" He mumbled in between bites of the mystery stew.

"Probably a nice strong man to take her to his room." Another voice piped up from behind him. A deep, burly voice that Roy would recognize anywhere.

Roy spun around, bits of stew still hanging on his lips, and looked at the man. Standing taller than him, with a sword strapped to his waist and a pair of leather boots, gloves, leggings, and a nice leather tunic match, was a man Roy knew all too well. A man who Roy had great faith in, and had placed much trust in during his time in the underworld. A man with a buzz cut and a red roundish beard.

This man was his good friend, Elroy. A fellow Coterie thief, and fellow gang member.

Roy smiled and let out a laugh, standing up to hug the tall man.

"Elroy! By the Maker, you're a sight for sore eyes!" He chuckled as he hugged the man. Elroy returned the gesture and laughed all the same.

"Ah, shut it you windbag." He returned the gesture, patting Roy on the back as he did so. "You were supposed to be back at the hideout by midnight. What in the Void, man?" He added as he pulled away from the friendly hug.

Roy chuckled as he moved to sit back down. "Whatever, man. I got myself a good haul today, thought I'd treat myself to a nice meal in my favorite place. What's the harm in that?"

"If you really wanted to treat yourself, you'd go to the red light district in Hightown…" Elroy said under his breath, but just loud enough for Roy to hear. This caused Roy to laugh even more.

"Ha! Now there's a thought!" Roy laughed, turning back to the tall thief. "Where were you when I was coming up with this idea, man?" Roy sarcastically added, raising a brow as an accusation. Elroy punched his shoulder, and told him to shut up. All Roy could do was chuckle warmly alongside his friend.

"Mind if I have a seat?" Elroy asked reluctantly, unsure if he had any place in Roy's night out.

But Roy was never one to turn away a good friend. He slapped the seat next to him, encouraging the older man to join. "You hungry?" Roy asked.

Elroy shook his head.

"Nah, I ate at the hideout." He replied as he sat down. "But I am kinda thirsty…"

Roy wasted no time in offering him a swig of his brandy, and Elroy accepted the offer with a big smile. He sipped at the cup, eager to see what Roy was drinking, but his eyes went wide as he realized what exactly his, usually poor, friend was having.

"B-brandy?!" Elroy coughed up, nearly dropping the drink in his fit. Roy laughed, patting his friend on the back as he coughed up his lungs. Elroy was clearly not expecting such a strong and delicious drink. "How...how could you afford this?!" He raised his concern, not understanding how such a poor man could afford such an expensive drink. "I didn't even know they had brandy here…"

"I…. just told you I came into a good haul. Weren't you listening, you goddamned dope?" Roy deadpanned, reaching for his drink before his friend spilled it entirely. He sipped at it, smacking his lips as the cold, strong drink flowed past his gums, burning where it could, and down his throat. A little bit dripped from the cup onto his chin, rolling down his skin until it reached a point where it would drip off, and onto the dirty floor below.

Elroy looked at his friend and then back at the table. His friend usually didn't make much more than a couple dozen silvers on a regular snatch-and-dash. Roy had told everyone back at the hideout in Darktown what he was going to do, but no one thought he would get much. The noble district was always well guarded. Not many thieves usually dared to march on the district, lest they run the huge risk of getting arrested….. Or worse. Some nobles were said to be sadistic towards their servants. How would they deal with a thief?

Elroy blinked, then looked at Roy. He was enjoying his stew with much gusto, and it was a somewhat disgusting display. But Roy looked like he earned it, and that caused Elroy to smile.

"And what kind of haul did you manage?" Elroy asked, eager to find out how much his good friend made by his snatch-and-dash. Roy blinked as he ate, then swallowed what he had in his mouth before replying.

"First, let me get you a drink…" Roy offered, slapping the table to get the attention of nearby Norah. "Lady! I decided I want the whole bottle! Can you do that for me?"

Norah looked at him and smiled warmly, winking at him before walking off. He had given her a whole sovereign. The money given to her was more than enough to cover more than two bottles of brandy.

Roy looked back at his friend and chuckled. "Nice lady, she is."

For a while the talk of a good haul was forgotten as they chatted. Mainly about the current events facing Kirkwall and about their boss, a skinny yet cunning elf named Dirhael, and his greedy ways. Elroy made his claim that Dirhael had the best interests of the gang at heart but Roy wasn't so certain. But that talk died away when the barmaid brought the rest of the brandy bottle to them. At no charge either. Just their little secret.

Elroy took a swing and then refilled Roy's cup with a hearty laugh before swigging another gulp. Elroy wasn't a heavy drinker compared to Roy, so the buzz came upon him faster than his younger friend. But he was coherent enough to hold down a conversation.

They laughed together, they drank together, they sang together. All to the amusement of the nearby patrons who tapped away at their tables and toasted to their voices. Even the scantily clad woman by the bar had taken notice and, while she seemed uninterested, a small smile curled upon her lips as she watched the duo sing.

It was no doubt quite a sight, a tall man locking arms with a much smaller man, singing and drinking. Both men armed, both men armored. But acting silly and foolish for their own amusement.

When the cups ran dry for them they eventually stopped, both of them being buzzed with Elroy being a little drunker than Roy. They settled down and sat in silence for a while, opting to watch the other patrons do their foolish acts in their own drunken stupors. It wasn't like Roy and Elroy were any different. Eventually Elroy let out a coughing fit, catching Roy's attention. Roy hit him on the back to help him out and when the little fit was over Elroy smiled and leaned forward, resting his head on the palms of his hands. Enjoying the slight drunken state he was in.

"Sho telll me…." Elroy slurred, eyeing the coin purse under the table. It looked fancy. It looked like it was made of pure velvet. "I...know you d-don't make enoff muney on an avege snach-and-dass to uffod all dis…. Who'd you rrrob?"

Roy blinked as he watched the mercenary group in the far corner, then turned to look at Elroy. He was smiling widely, eager to know who the mark was.

"Morr impo...imper...impar….impertantly… How did ya eskepe? The secarity in that dissstrict is dop nitch."

Roy laughed, reaching for the coin purse under the table. He was careful to not draw any attention, however. Especially from the armored warriors and thieves in the far corner. He held it up for Elroy to see, and slowly began to undo the knot.

"No one saw me but the poor mark. I got away with ease. The guards up there are a joke, keheheh…." Roy chuckled. "But even more importantly, I got away with this…." He lowered the purse and opened it slightly. Just enough for Elroy to see inside. Despite Elroy's drunken vision, he clearly made out the unmistakable shine of a gold coin within the velvet pouch. Elroy's eyes widened in surprise, grinning eagerly.

"A herrl sovereign? Whooo just walks arond with a herrl sovereign?" Elroy muttered, watching in greedy glee as the coin shined in his eyes. Roy laughed, and tied the pouch off.

"The blonde bimbo I robbed, that's who." Roy inferred, tossing the pouch under the table to avoid any unwanted gazes. "The pouch is worth a little something something too, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there. All that matters is I got a good score, and that's that." Roy told him, avoiding the fact he gave a whole sovereign away to get some good hooch. Elroy was none the wiser.

"A herrl sovereign… No wwwway." Elroy muttered. "Dirhell is ganna shit himmssself. It's not oten we bring in gold." Elroy added, referencing the fact that Roy will not get to keep what he's made.

Roy, however, wasn't happy with the idea and looked away. His grin faded, and he closed his eyes as he thought of a way to explain to Elroy what he was planning.

"About that…."

Elroy noticed the hesitation and looked to his friend for answers. His smile faltered in confusion, and he voiced it clearly despite his slightly drunken state. His slurring was amusing to Roy to an extent, but with the mention of Dirhael, Roy was suddenly less than amused with Elroy's antics.

"What? What's wrong?"

Roy huffed and eyed the pouch. A whole gold coin sat in there, and the velvet pouch itself was worth its weight as well. Velvet wasn't easy to come by in the peasant world, the merchants would be glad to take it off his hands.

"Do we really gotta turn it in to Dirhael? You know what he's going to do with it." Roy asked, reaching once again for the pouch to use it as reference. "He's gonna take it all for himself and not give any explanation on what he's doing with it. It's not fair."

"He's the boss, Roy. You know how it goes in our organization. Everyone gets an equal share of the take."

"But Elroy, anything of actual value he takes and stores away!" Roy silently exclaimed. He tried not to draw attention but a few nearby patrons took notice. When Roy quieted down they went back to their conversations, unwary of the criminal dealings going on between the two. "Remember the heist of the volcanic cuirass? We gave it to Dirhael, and we never seen it since! He was supposed to fence it and give each of us a share of the profits but I never saw a bit of the profits."

"Roy…"

"What?" Roy asked, shrugging off the obvious disappointment in what Roy was getting at. "I'm just saying I deserve something out of what I steal for once. I don't get to do things often, and this night has been one of the best ones I've ever had. Can't you say the same, my friend?"

Elroy looked at Roy for a moment, then sighed. While he knew Roy was a little right, he also knew he couldn't go against Dirhael. Dirhael was a well connected Coterie member, even more connected than Roy and himself combined. Dirhael had judges, guards, nobles, mercenaries, assassins, mages, templars, and more in his deep, deep pockets. He also knew that Dirhael was doing something with the profits of each major heist, theft, and job, but he refused to stand up to him for one simple reason.

He both respected and feared Dirhael. Dirhael was not an elf to be crossed.

It was also true that Dirhael had need for the extra money. He had a gang to run, after all. Perhaps he was paying off guards and judges, giving tribute to his higher ups, or purchasing new amenities for the gang to utilize.

"Dirhael is the bossss" Elroy belted out "Ya dun realize it, but tha makesss hissss wooord finalll. Tha meens he hasss finallll say on the loooot we take. He has his own tithesss and trabutes to pay to the highar upsss in the guld asss well, so dun tink for a momen he's doin sum under-the-table bussness. We'd allll kno by now if he wasss, we're not as tupid as you tink." Elroy explained slowly and carefully. He trusted Dirhael. Dirhael kept the gang together through the years, through thick and thin, through storm and drought. He trusted that Dirhael knew what he was doing. "He's got our best interests at heart, trust me."

Roy huffed and cut his eyes to the table. Elroy was, to some degree, right. Dirhael was well respected by the gang and had a silver tongue. He melted any disagreements with sheer words and always found the right way out of trouble. The gang only lasted so long because he was in charge.

Yet Roy still disliked him. He had his doubts Dirhael was as honorable a thief as he, and he must have something running under the table. He just couldn't prove it.

He shook his head, unwilling to take what Elroy was telling him at face value. But he knew he had to agree with Elroy. There was no real choice.

A big part of him wanted to keep all the money and the pouch for himself. He felt like he earned it. But the gang needed the coin, and if Dirhael was going to use it to keep them afloat, then he had to do his part for his friends. Even if it means risking it all to a greedy boss.

"Whatever." Roy dismissed him. Elroy looked at him for a moment, and smiled. He knew what Roy was planning, and he knew he had convinced him to do otherwise.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, just waiting for the awkwardness of the confrontation to subside. A group had entered the tavern, unbeknownst to Roy.

But Elroy had spotted them the second they walked in. Even in his blurred vision, he could spot a guard a mile away. The way they walked, the way they held themselves up.

Plus the armor was a dead giveaway.

Roy attempted to break the silence by talking about some expedition led by some noble dwarf that has been popping up in the underworld, and suggesting that it might be a good idea to look into it if the gang needed some coin, but Elroy was busy looking at someone else.

"Hey, lookie over there…." Elroy rose a pointed finger towards the bar, and Roy followed it. It landed on the scantily clad woman with the blue head rag. And it seems she had company now. "Yer eye candy hasss some fwends."

Roy looked them over. For a moment he didn't know what he was looking at, but he recognized the guard immediately. A guardswoman with orange hair and some sort of red headband in full uniform was standing there next to three others. A dwarf with a fancy looking crossbow, an elf with green vestments and tattoos running around her young looking face, and an imposing looking man with grey robes and black hair. His face looked familiar to Roy though, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

"Looks like that's who she was waiting on…. I wonder what's up?" Roy questioned out loud. Elroy joined him in staring at the newcomers, but his attention landed on the man in grey robes. He had a rough looking beard that covered both his chin and his cheeks that ran above his mouth as well. This man Elroy knew well, for his contacts had made dealings with him in the past. He's even shared the same room with him before with a certain poisonmaker.

Elroy squinted to see who it was, then he stood up and shouted for all to hear.

"Ey, I kno who dat is! Tat's Hawke, the merkenery forrr the Red Iron!" Elroy shouted, causing everyone to silence themselves. Roy looked around, and quickly realized everyone was staring at them. Including Hawke and his friends. Even the tattooed elf was looking at them, confused and surprised.

He looked at her, and she looked at him. Their eyes met briefly, and Roy quickly felt the heat of the attention bearing itself on him. He broke her gaze and grabbed Elroy by his shoulders and sat him down hard.

"Sit down, you blighter!" Roy verbally smacked him. "You trying to draw attention to ourselves?! There's a bloody guard with them!"

Elroy looked confused for a moment, and quizzically shrugged. He didn't understand Roy's sudden reprimand.

"We were singin earlier in frront of erveryone, now yor worried aboot drawin attenshun to ouselves?" Elroy questioned, not quite understanding what Roy was going on about.

"That was **before** a uniformed guard walked in! Contain yourself!" Roy retorted swiftly and aggressively.

"Wait... I know that guy!" He affirmed, before letting his eyes go wide in confusion followed by sudden doubt. He scratched the back of his head, and then added: "Well… Maybe " _kno_ " is a stron werd…. I kno _of_ him."

"I think we all do." Roy leaned in close, close enough to where he could smell the brandy stained breath of Elroy. "But it seems he has friends in the guard! Do you think it's a smart idea to gather their attention?! A clue: It isn't!" Roy voiced behind gritted teeth. "For a smart and able thief, that was a pretty fucking dumb move!"

Elroy looked confused and a bit hurt. But he let it slide off with ease and just turned back towards the table, appearing almost unbothered by his sudden outburst. Roy shook his head with disappointment, and quickly leaned back away from the older thief.

The young thief looked around to see if anybody was watching the scene, but everyone had lost interest the second Elroy was sat down. Nobody, not the guards nor the templars seemed to care anymore. When his eyes landed on Hawke and his companions, he was surprised to see that the young elf was still looking at him - yet he was relieved to know she was the only one still paying him any attention

Her confusion was replaced with amusement. She was smiling, and watching to see if anything else would happen. Their eyes met again, and when she realized it she quickly turned away back to the conversation that was being had with the scantily clad woman.

Roy huffed and glared at Elroy.

"Come on. We've gathered enough attention for one night." Roy said as he gathered his sword. He grabbed Elroy by the arm and lifted him back up onto his feet. "Let's head back home, you bleedin' blighter."

Elroy shrugged and they moved for the exit. Roy looked back to see if any of the armored people were watching them, but none were paying them any mind. The fun night of drinking and eating was over, and all because of his friend's booze-induced idiocy.

For a while they walked the dark streets of Lowtown, looking for the elevator to Darktown. In complete silence. Roy was a bit ticked off that Elroy barked so loud. That everyone looked at them, including the guard.

That elf seemed amused with the whole situation, too.

But Hawke's other friend, the guardswoman, seemed like a tough cookie. If she had realized what he had done in the early afternoon, he'd be clapped in irons. A situation he'd rather avoid entirely. No doubt the guards were looking for someone who matched his description too. He had no doubts the noblewoman described what she knew about him to the city guard.

But eventually Elroy broke the silence, unconcerned that he just ruined his buddy's night.

"Hey. I fergut to tell ya sumting."

Roy looked at his buzzed friend, raising a brow at the idiot's sudden utterance. They both stopped, in the dead of night in the middle of the road. No one was around, Roy made sure of that.

"What is it? He wants me to give over my sword as well as the gold?"

Elroy looked down at him, grinning between the small hiccups that he had just started releasing. It seemed the alcohol hadn't dulled his memory any.

"Dirhell fund our gang a new job."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised and proof read by a good friend who goes by the name Frozen Foe.


	2. Chapter 2 - Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revised as of 6/21/20

Everyone was already asleep at the hideout when they arrived.

One of the gang members, a dwarf and former Carta member named Filgins, was on guard outside the front door. He was a strong dwarf, wielding a big looking battleaxe that seemed much too big for such a stunted creature. But one would be surprised by how easily looks can deceive. That battleaxe was enough to keep prodders and slavers away from the hideout. They took one look at that axe, and decided it wasn't worth the effort.

As the duo approached the building, Roy looked it over. It didn't look like much from the outside. A small stone building that had long been carved into the rocky wall of Kirkwall's underside. But unbeknownst to most, the inside was a multiple story interior with many rooms carved out of stone. The sleeping quarters were in the basement, the living interior and basic necessities were in the main room, the meeting room was on the second floor, and the boss's personal quarters were on the third floor. Well away from the darkness of the basement Roy and his gang were used to.

Filgins and Dirhael had a theory that the building itself was carved out of the stone by the ancient dwarves during the time of the Tevinter Imperium's domination over the slave city. It's a likely theory, one that Roy was content to believe in. He also didn't care much. It served them well and that was enough for him. History and architecture was best left to people with the reason enough to care, at least that's what Roy believed.

The building was located in a dark alley that could be entered near the cliffside of Darktown. The location was convenient for the gang in case they needed to dispose of a body quickly and without concern. When Roy saw this alley, one he personally nicknamed Dirhael's Folly, he knew he was home. A feeling of content and solitude filled him whenever he entered, and when he was within sight of the person in charge of guarding the front door, he felt secure and safe from harm. Untouchable, as it were.

And this time was no different, except for the fact he was traveling with a buzzed Elroy.

Filgins didn't recognize the two at first, with the darkness of the sunless Darktown obscuring the duo's features to the grizzled dwarf. They caught him by surprise, as he took in a deep, surprised breath when he noticed their approach.

"Hold there!" Filgins called out, standing up from his lantern-lit reading to confront them. He scratched at the scruffy, greasy black beard he was sporting as he looked at them, attempting to discern who they were."You're in the wrong neighborhood, friends. I suggest you take your sodding behinds back the way you came before….well…before I get mad!" He reached for the hilt of his battleaxe as a threat, and Elroy just chuckled, opening his mouth to say something. But Roy stopped him by grabbing him by the shoulder to silence him. Roy stepped forward, and revealed his voice to the dwarf.

"Filgins, you fucking moron. It's us. Roy and Elroy." Roy called out as he approached. "Attack us and you'll answer to Dirhael. He'll be wondering why you decapitated a looker such as me, and my drunk friend here." Roy jabbed his friend hard, sending the older man reeling over in sudden pain. He gasped, the surprise of the sudden assault taking him so easily.

"Gah, Roy you bleedin' fucker! What was that for?!"

Roy replied "For ruining my night, you goddamn blighter." Roy turned back to Filgins, who was chuckling as he watched the scene unfold.

"Ah, the two Roys." Filgins replied, sitting back down in his seat as the duo approached, Elroy was still holding his gut as the alcohol failed to dull his pain. "What have I done to piss off whatever omnipotent being I should be worshiping to deserve you two's presence?" Filgins asked, adding a deep laugh at the end before shaking his head. "You sodding blighters are never far apart, are ya?"

"Shut it, Filgins. You love us and you know it." Roy countered, walking up to the dwarf with a cocky expression. Filgins smiled, and looked down to his feet.

"Well, y'all certainly don't make life boring. I'll give ya that much."

Elroy quickly caught up with his younger friend and tried to join in on the back and forth they had going but only managed to make it halfway through his sentence before burping up a foul stench. One that caught the dwarf by surprise and caused Roy to scrunch up his nose before plugging it with his fingers.

"Goddamn, Elroy…"

Filgins shook his head and turned away from the disgusting human, eyeing his book that lay lonely on the floor at his feet. Roy noticed the book as well, but chose not to comment on it and its contents. He concluded it must've been interesting enough to garner the dwarf's attention.

"Elroy, you sodding teetotaler. You'll never impress a dwarf if you can't hold your alcohol like a man." He muttered under his breath. Roy heard this and snickered, much to Elroy's buzzed disapproval.

"Whatever. I'm going to bed. See you jerks in the mornin'." He choked out, staggering slowly into the building ahead of him, disappearing inside. His movements were getting progressively worse since they left The Hanged Man, Roy concluded it was best he went to bed soon before he collapsed and forced Roy to drag him to his cot.

Roy attempted to follow but Filgins stopped him with an outstretched arm blocking the doorway, much to Roy's confusion. The young thief looked at the grizzled dwarf, who was merely grinning at Roy a stupid looking grin.

"So. Must've been a fun day. You tell us all you're goin' out robbin' and not report back the entire sodding day. Must've been a good haul, yeah?" The dwarf asked, raising a quizzical brow at the notion of coin. Roy understood well what he was getting at and chuckled lightly at the dwarf's notion.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Roy dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He motioned to the velvet pouch still attached to his belt, and smiled devilishly as he tapped it with a finger. "Inside is a whole sovereign. The pouch is worth something too. Dirhael is gonna get a kick outta this."

"A whole sovereign? Wow. That's more than you make on an average month." Filgins ribbed the young thief, stifling a loud laugh that was coming on as he thought of something else to say. "And you know what? That's including the velvet! What poor fool did you rob this time?"

Roy's smile continued even through the ribbing, although it went from devilish to cocky. Cocky, because Hightown was a tough location to mug someone. He got away with it, and the gang's gonna have a hard time believing that.

"Some bimbo in Hightown. Was walking around with a gold coin in her pouch and no escort. No guards were around either, it was the easiest job I've ever pulled." Roy quickly explained but quickly quieted up as he began to feel a yawn coming on and pretty quickly sleep was an idea that felt like a nice equivalent to drinking. "I'm tired, Filgins. Can I get some rest, now?"

Filgins looked at him and squinted, as if attempting to challenge the young thief. Roy squinted back, and the two stared at each other for a solid moment before Filgins broke out laughing. Slapping his knee and cackling as loud as he could for all to hear.

He tried composing himself, but the situation was just too funny to the middle-aged dwarf. Roy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, wondering just what it was that was so funny.

"Oh boy, you're fun to mess with Roy…." Filgins managed to breath out in his laughter. It continued for a few more seconds as he wiped tears away from his eyes, his laughing died into giggles, and then shortly into nothing at all. He looked up at his fellow thief, with a bright smile on his face, and replied with a faux hurt tone. "You really think I'm gonna keep you from going inside? Please. Get some rest, boy."

The young thief gave a two finger salute before moving past the dwarf, leaving him on his lonely, tiring guard duty and into the dark, light deprived building he was guarding. The tables were all empty, the floor was dirty, and the candles were out all save for one lantern by the entrance to the basement.

Roy yawned, he knew he'd be sleeping for most of the day.

His awakening wasn't exactly a rude one, but it wasn't welcome either.

His eyes fluttered at first, trying to make sense of the waking world around him. It was blurry, and his head throbbed fiercely. An obvious result from his heavy drinking the night prior. All that he could muster from his stupor was a pained groan as he sat up in his cot. When his vision finally caught up with him, he was greeted by a bright, lit candle laying on the table next to his cot. He was still armored, having not cared enough to actually sleep in something more comfortable than his current wear. He groaned a sore groan, feeling his chestpiece in an effort to make sense of why he didn't undress. When he thought about it, he felt like an idiot.

"Goddamn…." Roy muttered, pouting in his seat as he tried to clear his head. A nearby voice startled him, causing him to jump in place as he looked around for its source.

"You're finally awake?" Someone said.

He spotted them near the entrance to the basement. At first he couldn't make out who it was, but when they stepped closer their features became all the more apparent.

It was Eleana. Another one of his friends and a fellow gang member. A woman with crystal white hair braided into a bun with small freckles dotting her cheeks, with bright blue eyes finishing the look.

Roy blinked, and then rubbed his eyes. Even his eyes felt sore.

Eleana sighed and stepped forward further into the light, revealing her gear. She looked like she was getting ready to go out on a job, with a crossbow on her back and a quiver of bolts on her right thigh. She was wearing a leather mail set of armor. Leggings, boots, gloves, chestpiece all. Only thing she was missing was a helmet. But a helmet would just ruin her perfect looking hair, Roy thought.

"I lit the candle for you. I hope you like the smell, it's lavender scented." She claimed, notioning towards the candle on his nightstand. She had her arms crossed, watching the dazed thief carefully.

Roy looked at the candle a second, confused and still reeling before rubbing his throbbing head. He had no idea he had drank enough to actually feel the effects the day after.

"W-Why?" He staggered out, not entirely sure why Eleana had given him a candle, of all things.

She scoffed and shook her head in disapproval. Roy just looked away and stared at the candle, unsure of how to proceed. He knew Eleana had a thing for candles but she had never given him one before. This was something new to him, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Roy sniffed the air, and it indeed smelled like lavender. The air smelled sweet enough to be lavender.

"I've been told a scented candle really helps with a hangover." She explained. "But then again I wouldn't know, I don't often go out drinking. I think it makes people go stupid."

"Then I'm a hundred pound idiot then." Roy commented as he tried standing up. He succeeded, if just barely. His headache was massive enough to cause him to reel over as punishment for rising up too fast. He held his head tightly, trying to contain the pain that he was in. Under his breath, he cursed himself for not going for something lighter like beer or ale.

"The boss is looking for you. He said you have something that he would like to see?" Eleana mentioned as she turned about, leaving the hungover thief by himself. He stopped her with a callout, however, as he found himself curious about her current wardrobe.

"Where are you going?" Roy asked, his interest piqued. The gang never wore their weapons openly unless they were going somewhere they expected trouble.

All except for Elroy, who wore his sword wherever he went in case the guards recognized him.

Eleana looked back at him, and replied "If you hadn't slept all day, you'd know we got a job offer." She turned halfway to face him, her expression being one of annoyance. "You can talk to Dirhael about it. But me, Filgins, and Elroy have to go stake out the Elven Alienage." She started walking upstairs, but stopped herself halfway to answer an unspoken question Roy no doubt had.

"I stayed behind to make sure you didn't sleep all damn day. Now that you're awake, I need to get going." She said. "Dirhael is waiting for you. Upstairs. I'll see you later, Roy."

Roy shook his head, and watched her depart. Then glanced back at the half-burnt candle. Eleana was always one of the voices of reason within the gang, and alongside Dirhael, had a silver tongue like no other. She was like a mother to the gang, even though she was only a young twenty five year old. Perhaps she felt some duty to the gang that warranted her trying to keep the peace between the rival personalities of each member. Or perhaps her noble background actually had the true meaning of " _Noble_ " in it somewhere.

She was kind enough to Roy, but at times found herself annoyed with his antics. His drinking habit, his tendency to slink off and go on rogue jobs, and even his known dislike of Dirhael got on her nerves at times. But she always let it slide. Much like everyone else in the gang did, even Dirhael.

"Goddamn…" Roy muttered as he held his head. He closed his eyes briefly, but the lingering flame of the candle lit up the darkness behind his lids. He focused on the candle, and sneered at it. "...Goddamn candle."

He put out the candle and slowly made his way upstairs. Halfway up the stairs he had realized he forgot his velvet coin purse and went to retrieve it before going to see Dirhael.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he was greeted by the brightly lit room that the gang usually bummed around in when not doing anything particularly important or when they're not out in the town. There was a bookshelf, a couch, a poker table, multiple dining facilities such as a cooking pot and a water valve that Dirhael had a hell of time contracting someone to work on. Darktown was always a dark place, so candles and lanterns had to be lit around the clock in the building so they could see.

Nobody was here, Eleana had already left, and Dirhael was upstairs. Roy took a second to wonder if the final member of the gang, a stocky human named Menien, was watching the front door or if he was out on the town. Roy didn't care all that much, but if the latter were true then that meant the hideout was undefended. Roy had hoped that wasn't the case.

Roy made his way upstairs slowly, nursing the headache he had all the while. Passing the meeting room, he made his way into Dirhael's study, where Dirhael was waiting patiently for the thief's awakening. He knocked on the door, and he heard the familiar calm voice of his elven boss bading him to enter.

When he did so, the elf asked him to close the door. He did so, and then looked around. Familiar sights the room had, ramshackle bookshelves sat around that contained knowledge on different subjects, all of which seemed to interest the elf to no end. A desk sat in the middle of the room as well, with Dirhael sitting behind it with crossed legs. There was something formal about this situation that struck Roy dumb to no end. They were thieves, and to him he felt like they didn't need this kind of formality. But he went along with it anyways, for he had no other choice.

All of this was, of course, different to the nice bed in the corner Dirhael had all to himself. A very stark contrast to the cots everyone else had to sleep in.

" _Nothing but the best for the leader, huh…._ " Roy thought.

Dirhael himself was a skinny elf, like most of his kind, with brown hair tied into a topknot and fading very quickly as the rest grew down his neck. To anybody who didn't know any better, he would look like a foreigner.

But he wasn't one.

He was very much local, and he very much knew every way to get other locals into his pockets.

A pair of cups and a bottle of some kind of drink sat in front of Dirhael, and the elf smiled. Welcoming Roy to his study. Roy stepped forward, not knowing exactly what was in store for him.

"Elroy and Filgins told me something remarkable today, Roy." Dirhael remarked, smiling behind his pyramid-forming fingers. His elbows were resting square on the desk and he looked quite comfortable with where he was sitting. This level of formality told Roy that whatever Dirhael was thinking, it was nothing negative.

"Did they, now?" Roy retorted, having a small feeling he knew what Dirhael was talking about.

"Have a seat, Roy. I'll treat you to some whiskey." Dirhael replied, opening the bottle and pouring a cup for both him and Roy.

Roy didn't like Dirhael. That much was already established. Even Dirhael knew, but Dirhael allowed it and treated Roy like the rest of the gang. With respect and kindness. But this annoyed Roy to no end. Roy always wondered what kind of person would treat someone who hated him so kindly.

But Roy complied. It was his boss, after all. He couldn't say no.

Especially when it involved a nice drink.

"Don't mind if I do, boss." Roy smiled, taking the cup at the same time as Dirhael. Dirhael held the cup up as if to perform a toast but Roy hesitated. He just looked at the cup a second, then refused to bang his cup with Dirhael's. The elf frowned, but allowed it as Roy took a sip from his cup.

"So. Roy." The elf started, holding the cup of whiskey in both hands whilst looking down at the desk. He let out a loud exhale before meeting Roy's eyes. Roy rolled his, knowing exactly what Dirhael was about to ask for. "Where's my gold coin?" Dirhael asked.

Roy nodded his head and let out a "Yeah, yeah, yeah." as he sat the cup down and reached for the coin purse at his belt. He undid it and tossed it to Dirhael, who caught it and grinned at the fabric it was made out of.

"Velvet… nice." Dirhael commented, shaking it up and down to hear what was inside. He frowned initially when he heard nothing come out of it. But when he opened it up, the shine of the sovereign inside was enough to transmute that frown into a wide, toothy grin. "Well, well, well…. Elroy wasn't telling no tall tales then."

"Nope." Roy replied, taking another sip of his demon drink. He winced as the burning sensation mixed negatively with the headache he was suffering. "Goddamn, that…" He muttered, smacking his lips to try and suss out a specific flavor of the drink. He couldn't find one.

"Tell me. How did you come across such a find?" Dirhael asked. "Normally you don't just see someone carrying gold around."

"Some bimbo was carrying it up in Hightown. A whole sovereign in an expensive purse. It was all as simple as snatching it and fleeing before any guards noticed. Bing bang boom baddaboom." Roy explained, a good smile developing on his face as he explained his handiwork.

"Well, I hope that " _bimbo_ " didn't come a cropper." Dirhael said, a small smirk developing in turn. "Their generous donation to our cause was really helpful. Don't you think?"

Roy dismissed his remark with a subtle grunt, opting instead to refill his cup. As he poured the whiskey, Dirhael took the purse and stored it in a drawer underneath his side of the desk. Then, in one motion, he downed his entire cup in one gulp. Roy looked at him a moment and just slowly nodded, not exactly concerned enough to ask if that was such a bright idea.

"What're you gonna do with it?" Roy asked, knowing full well what answer he was going to get, but he asked it all the same.

Dirhael looked up at him, conceitedly grinning.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out." Dirhael said, but then he stopped and looked around before finishing with: "But I don't want you to find out, so it's just for me to know."

Roy scoffed at this and set his drink down on the desk before him. He sneered at the elf's choice of words and simply remarked "And then you wonder why I don't like you, little elf."

Dirhael shook his head, truly unconcerned with what Roy had just said.

"I don't need you to like me. You're useful just the way you are, Roy." He grinned, praising Roy for his abilities, yet Roy couldn't help but feel that Dirhael was being an ass at the same time. "You are so-"

"Is there any other reason you called me up here, or did you just want the sovereign?" Roy asked suddenly, taking a small sip of his whiskey and interrupting the elf's words of praise and subtle dickery. Dirhael paused and frowned, then after a few moments of contemplation he started chuckling. Roy, meanwhile, took hold of his drink once more and took a big gulp. He knew he shouldn't be drinking right now, but he didn't care. A free drink is a free drink.

"Yes, actually. There is. A couple things really." Dirhael admitted as he stood up. He took a step forward before looking at Roy, at first with indifference but that developed slowly into a smile as he began to circle around Roy. Roy followed him with a quizzical gaze, both concerned and intrigued by the business Dirhael was about to throw his way.

"You see, and I'm sure Elroy told you - I sent him to find you, after all - but we got a job offer."

Roy looked at him, his intrigue furthering itself with the mention of the mystery job offer again.

"Go on."

Dirhael shuffled a few feet back and turned his attention to the bookshelves. On one of them in particular rested a book whose name was of great interest to the elf. The name " _The Tevinter Imperium: Menace or Salvation?_ " was printed on it. Written by a Tevinter mage long ago before his time.

Roy noticed his interest with the book, but didn't say anything. To Roy, it was just an ordinary book. It held no significant value.

But to Dirhael, it held enough. He walked over and drew it from the shelf and looked it over. He dusted off the cover slowly, reading the title over and over in his mind as he worked.

"It's from a few mages from the Tevinter Imperium."

Roy, his interest suddenly peaking at the mention of Tevinter mages, listened attentively. He leaned towards Dirhael, bading him to continue. He knew easily that if Tevinters were involved, that also meant gold was involved. A lot of gold.

But that also meant Dirhael was going to keep it all to himself for something unknown to him and the gang.

But not if Roy pocketed a little for himself…

"They want us to….scour….our city for a strong looking elf." He said slowly, putting a hand on the cover of the book. It sported a complete map of the Tevinter Imperium, and was extremely valuable to any historian. But this book was too useful to sell. "An elf who can hold their own and manage themselves through strenuous menial labor and magical experiments."

Roy blinked, and grew a demonic looking smile. A slavery job. Those always paid out greatly. It wouldn't be the first time his gang dabbled in it, and it wouldn't be the worst job they've taken.

The elf placed the book back on the shelf and turned about, facing Roy fully.

"As you can guess. This isn't an easy task." He said matter-of-factly. "But I've put my ear to the dirt and got some info. A new elf has moved into the alienage. A Dalish elf."

Roy's eyes widened at the mention of a Dalish elf living in the city. To many, a rare and interesting sight. But to them, a grand opportunity.

"So I sent Eleana, Elroy, and Filgins to stake out the alienage. Figure out where this elf lives. Figure out their schedule. See what's what." Dirhael admitted, returning to his chair with feet filled with lead. "You know as well as I do this opportunity isn't something we can pass up. The Dalish are strong people. Strong willed, yes, but strong physically as well. Something these Tevinters are very specific in wanting."

"They're tough, they're strong, and they're resilient. All we would have to do is break their will and then send them off to the slavers. Then it's payday." Dirhael smiled.

Roy's smile didn't fade either. This _was_ a perfect opportunity. A Dalish elf coming to the city while some Tevinters are looking for a strong elf to enslave? How could they pass that up? But this definitely wouldn't be an easy task. As Dirhael had put it, Dalish elves were no joke. But the gang, when working together, could get anything done. From heists to kidnapping to assassination. Roy felt a little pride surging on as he began to realize what Dirhael was about to ask, so he tried beating him to the punch.

"And let me guess: You want me to kidnap the elf in question, yeah?" Roy asked, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. Dirhael chuckled at the question, and that caused Roy to smile even more. For all the reasons Roy disliked Dirhael, he loved getting the tough jobs. They were fun, and they were challenging. Thrilling, too.

But Dirhael's next set of words took Roy by complete surprise.

"No. In fact, I don't want you to do that."

Roy's smile faded fast, and his eyes widened in response.

" _Did he just say no?!_ " Roy's thoughts bubbled.

"Er, what now?" Roy asked, cocking his head and leaning towards the elf. Dirhael chuckled again and rose from resting on the seat before him to circling around Roy once more. "If you don't want me doing the dirty work, then why are you telling me all this?"

"So you're not surprised when we bring in a….eh, shall we say "Guest"...?" Dirhael informed him. He brought up his hand and gently placed it upon Roy's shoulder, eliciting a surprised glance upwards from the young thief. "Besides…. I got a different job I want you to do. And only you….. You see, I was contacted yesterday by one of my friends in the loan shark business."

Dirhael stepped around Roy, making sure to keep him in his sights while he spoke. All the while Roy watched, interested, while not as fairly as the last job offer, but interested nonetheless in this new job. Even more so since Dirhael wants him to be the one to get it done.

"A local merchant by the name Mernan Llivida borrowed around eighty silver from him. It's been months since he's done that though, and my friend decided it's time to collect."

"Ah, now I see. You want me to go collect. I see." Roy understood what Dirhael was asking of him, and was completely up for it. It may not have sounded as fun as kidnapping, but getting to yell at someone and getting violent if they refuse sounded fun enough. He just hoped the guards wouldn't intervene. "I'll do it."

"Ah… Good man." Dirhael clapped his hands together and smiled warmly at his underling. He knew Roy would be up for the task. He also knew how disappointed Roy was that he wasn't going to be kidnapping an elf. Or at least participate in the act. And Dirhael knew exactly how to curb that disappointment.

Greed was a trait all men and women had. Guards had it, templars had it, royalty had it, peasants had it, and nobles definitely had it. Everyone has a price, and Roy was no different. He knew well that Roy didn't like the fact he kept the expensive stuff hidden away. Elroy and Eleana would always complain to Dirhael about Roy's verbal antics. Dirhael knew that to reward the young man would be to surprise the young man, and to keep him from doing anything stupid. Something Dirhael knew Roy was entirely capable of.

That is why Dirhael offered to pay him himself, out of his own pockets, if he got the job done and done right. Without killing, and without a silver less.

It took Roy by surprise but he didn't show it. He just rose a brow at the elf's choice of words.

"You would pay me, little elf?" Roy asked, confused as to why the loan shark wouldn't pay him. "What about your friend?"

"My friend isn't in the business of meeting with scoundrels like us. He has a reputation to uphold." Dirhael explained carefully. "He lends the money out, and if someone doesn't pay on time, he hires people like us to get the money to him. You get me the money, I give you something valuable in return. Sounds good, yes?"

Roy agreed, and Dirhael wasted no time in telling him the whereabouts of Mernan. Mernan was a merchant in Lowtown who had a stall by the docks. To find him, all he had to do was look for a merchant selling cheaply made rugs.

That also gave Roy a clue in how to handle the merchant if things went south, but he saved that thought for later.

When all was said and done, Dirhael dismissed Roy with a gentle wave of his hand. He encouraged Roy's behaviour further by stating that, even though he knew about Roy's antipathy for him, he knew he could always count on Roy to get the job done no matter how dangerous or crude. While this was certainly a crude job by definition, it didn't deflect Roy's interest in the slightest.

While to Roy, this job also served to keep him busy while the deal with the Tevinters went through.

"I'd like this done by the end of the week, Roy." Dirhael said, turning away from Roy and back to his bookshelves. He looked one shelf up and down for a book of interest to him, and when he finally found one he was searching for, he took hold of it and slid it out, interested in picking up on some light reading until the gang returned from their recon mission. "Now please leave my study. I'd like to read in private."

Roy complied, standing up from his seat and departing the study without another word. He soon found himself alone in the living area of the hideout, just him and a dozen candles and lanterns. Menien was outside, watching the door in the event someone decided to harass them, and the others were all off to the Elven Alienage. Nothing much he could really do besides wait and see what became of the others.

Roy knew he could go and deal with his job now, but he also knew he had to be ready in case the others came back and were ready to kidnap the mark. He would need to be available so he could help bring the elf in.

Not to mention he had three days to bring in the debt money. He knew he could afford one day to relax. And relax he was going to do in the artificially lit room. He spotted a lone deck of cards sitting all alone on a nearby table. Roy smiled as he eyed them, and with a quick glance to the door, he opted to entertain himself until the others got back. Sitting down, he adjusted a nearby lantern to provide as much light as he could get, and slowly unraveled the deck for his little solo game.

All he had to do now was wait.

* * *

It was late. The trio had returned briefly in the afternoon to give their report to Dirhael and to talk with him on what to do next. Roy was sitting outside the hideout on guard duty, with him and Dirhael being the only ones home. Menien had gone off with the others to kidnap the target under the cover of darkness before the guards shut the gates to the alienage for the night.

Roy couldn't be any more bored.

Guard duty was his least favorite chore in the gang.

Cooking was more exciting than this, because at least when you were cooking for the gang you could decide what to make entirely and what to put into it. Everyone would have to eat it, or go hungry. Nobody liked going hungry.

Roy sat back in his seat, staring off into the dark before him. It was real quiet. Not even the sounds of rats skittering around in the gutters and under the trash made themselves clear. It was just quiet. Bliss.

Roy's only source of light was a lantern by his feet, burning bright enough to where he could see more than a few feet ahead of him and bright enough to illuminate his immediate surroundings. But Roy wasn't worried about any altercations since nobody came down this way. Not only was it secluded, but the locals knew to stay away lest they answer to Dirhael.

And nobody wanted to answer to Dirhael.

Roy passed the time by thinking about his upcoming job. He figured he would do it tomorrow or perhaps the day after, when things have settled down and he is free to do what he wants for a bit. It wouldn't take long, he thought. A few minutes of intimidation, some vandalism maybe. He'd get what he needed in no time. He just had to decide when the right time to do it was.

But he didn't get to think on this too much before he spotted movement in the dark. At first, Roy didn't know who it was and was getting ready to call out to them, that is until he noticed it was a group of people.

"Oh shit!" Roy muttered as he reached for the hilt of his blade. He drew it, with the sound of the blade biting the scabbard echoing in the dark. In his haste, he knocked over the chair he was sitting in and it too echoed in the dark all around him. "Turn around and walk away, you pig fuckers! You don't want to mess with us!" Roy threatened, backing away from the approaching group. He knew he was outnumbered and stood no real chance against a group of armed individuals, but if he could get Dirhael's attention, then that would change greatly since Dirhael was deadly with his daggers compared to Roy's expertise with his shortsword.

But a voice called out to him that caused him to quickly fall at ease.

"Roy, you dumbass, it's us! Put down yer sword before I knock it outta yer hand!" The familiar voice called out to him. "...and put my boot up yer ass while I'm at it! Sodding humans…."

He breathed a breath of relief, sliding the sword back into its scabbard as the group made their way into the light. It was Filgins who had called out to him, and he sported a cheeky grin underneath that groggy looking beard.

"Boy, I saw you backing up against that there wall. What? Can't handle a measly dwarf?" He ribbed as he passed by him, not even waiting for a response as he ducked down inside the hideout, almost as if he was forgetting they were transporting valuable cargo.

Behind him, Elroy followed. Stopping just before the young thief and his overturned chair.

"Elroy!" Roy greeted him, and Eleana quickly appeared behind him. He greeted her too with the same amount of enthusiasm, and they greeted him in turn. "So, how was the trip?" Roy asked, nudging Elroy's ribs as he prodded for information. "Did you get the target?"

Elroy spouted a cocky smile and pointed towards the approaching Menien, who had a pair of legs draped over his shoulders. They weren't moving, save for swaying with each step the stocky rogue made. Roy smiled. It seems the job went off without a hitch.

"Oh, we got her alright." Elroy chuckled, with Eleana's smile broadening with each second when Menien stopped before them. Menien was grinning too.

"We got her…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised and proof read by a good friend who goes by the name Frozen Foe.


	3. Chapter 3 - Merrill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revised as of 6/27/20

The gang just sat there, watching the elf carefully as Menien drove a heavy stake into the ground next to her. She was unconscious, and has been for some time now. Roy didn't know how it happened, but considering Filgins and Menien were involved, it definitely wasn't pleasant. A big bruise on the side of her head spoke volumes of what had occurred, and it was just enough evidence to tell Roy to not ask for the details.

Filgins himself was sitting away in the corner, massaging his temples and groaning in what seemed like pain.

***CLANG***

Roy looked to Menien, who had a large hammer in one hand, and in the other the steel stake he was driving into the floor. He didn't look any worse for wear. No bruises, no abrasions, no scrapes. Unlike Filgins, he seemed perfectly fine.

***CLANG***

Menien himself was a brute of a man, and his gang would've been long lost without him. Greasy black hair draping down to his neck, followed up by a dirty black beard that covered his face and neck to the point it was scruffy enough to become a habitat for small animals. He easily towered over Elroy, who, before Menian's arrival, was the tallest member of the gang. Though with his brute strength also came logic and determination. Unlike most members of the gang, he liked intelligent conversation. Philosophical debates. Political talk. History books. Menien was, to Roy, nothing short of a complete surprise of a man. He didn't seem like an academic just by looking at him, but he certainly acted like one in person.

Regardless, the gang was glad to have him around not only for the muscle, but also when something strenuous needed to be done. He succeeded heavily in performing labor when the group needed it.

Dirhael was in the room too, sitting on the stairs and eyeing Menian's work with approval and absolute glee. We all were, in reality. All save for Filgins.

***CLANG***

"Didn't tell us the target was a sodding mage…." The dwarf piped up, directing his comment at Dirhael with a nasty glare. He was rubbing the side of his head gently but profusely at the same time. Whatever had happened had given him a massive headache, it seems.

Dirhael's eyes opened in complete surprise, not expecting such a revelation from the dwarf, or from anybody for that matter.

"Ah, is she now?" Dirhael remarked, slowly standing up and strolling towards the mage. He seemed pleased to learn this trait of the target, for whatever reason.

"Sodding yes, she is!" Filgins let out, his voice growing into a consistently annoyed one. "Damn bitch sent me flying across her home, headfirst into a goddamn fireplace, thank the Ancestors it wasn't lit at the time!" He added, suddenly wincing as a surge of pain flowed through his head. He held it firmly, faltering slowly as the sharp pain burned further inwards.

***CLANG***

"I... I'm sorry to hear that…" Dirhael said, looking at Filgins with a slight frown. "If you need to see a healer, I'll sponsor you a trip."

Roy scoffed at that comment and turned away. Dirhael being nice was just disgusting to him, mainly because of how he didn't like him. Roy thought it made him look bad in front of the others.

"Yeah, she gave us a lot of trouble." Menian's rough voice piped up. He paused his hammering to look up at Dirhael, and he too was frowning. "We picked the wrong target, it seems. She fought back so much the guards at the gate were mobilizing to see what's what. We barely made it out of there without being noticed."

Dirhael looked at Menien, and Menien just shrugged off the look he was getting and went back to his hammering. He raised his arm, and subsequently brought it down hard onto the steel stake.

***CLANG***

Roy himself looked to the elf, laying near peacefully on the floor. He looked her up and down, and it seems they caught her right before she was going to settle down for bed. She had a dark green nightgown on, and it draped down her legs and ended right above her knees. Besides the bruise on her head, she also had tattoos on her face. She was Dalish, alright.

Roy was surprised himself to hear of her magical powers. A mage? He shook his head, coming to a quick understanding of how dangerous it was to keep her around. He checked to see if her hands were bound, and he exhaled a breath of relief when he noticed they were.

" _At least they thought ahead that far_." He thought.

"You know, Dirhael… The Templars would pay a hefty sum if we were to turn her in…" Menien said in between his hammering. Roy looked at him, then at Dirhael. Roy happened to agree with this statement.

"I agree with Menien. She's dangerous." Roy agreed, uncrossing his arms and slowly advancing on the unconscious elf. "If she wakes up, and those bindings don't keep her from casting any fancy magic, we're gonna be looking at the ass end of a fireball. Or worse." Roy added, trying to reason with Dirhael on the elven mage before them. "Not to mention the fact we didn't agree to kidnap a bleedin' mage. Might as be well be asking the Maker himself to strike us down however he wants. I bet you, any minute now, a bolt of lightning is gonna strike any one of us."

Dirhael laughed, as did Eleana. Roy thought he saw Menien snicker in between his hammering but he wasn't sure.

***CLANG***

"I appreciate the concern, you three. But I don't think the Maker gives two flying shits about these filthy mages." Dirhael said, standing over the unconscious elf with a smug grin. Whether it was about what he said, or the fact his gang captured such a valuable person was something Roy couldn't figure out. "And you're right. The Templars would indeed pay well for an apostate, no less this one right here." He pointed at the unconscious elf, his grin failing to falter. "But I have a feeling the Tevinters will pay more. Especially when they find out she's a mage." He grinned devilishly, knowing something the rest of them didn't.

" _What does that even mean? Wouldn't that make her more of a liability to the Tevinters?_ " Roy's thoughts echoed. He scrunched up his brow at that statement but didn't argue it. He didn't exactly see a need to, despite the fact he had questions burning in his mind.

Eleana suddenly spoke up, breaking her long standing silence. She was standing near the entrance, leaning against the wall and watching the scene unfold. She was eyeing the elf just as much as everyone else was, save for Filgins, who continued to nurse his headache alone in the corner.

"Let's also not forget that the Templars have a duty to protect the people just as much as the city guard does." She carefully said. Stepping forward, she approached the unconscious elf, carefully watching her for any sudden movements. "The Templars, and everyone else, believe that only the Templars have the right to raid homes and kidnap people. If they discover us, they'll turn us over to the city guard without hesitation, and without payment." She explained. Menien stopped his hammering and looked at her, raising his eyebrows at her words.

Filgins paused his nursing and looked at Eleana as well. Then, as he let her words sink in, he realized she was right. He, with much hesitation, agreed out loud. Roy did so as well, crossing his arms and backing away from the elven mage.

"Good point, Eleana." Roy admitted with a sullen, defeated tone. "Good point."

"So we're all in agreement!" Dirhael clapped his hands together and smiled brightly. "Tevinters it is! Menien, tie her to the stake when you've got that thing ready. The rest of you…."

***CLANG***

"I want one person guarding her at all times. Eight hour shifts. I expect to be informed when she wakes up for I have some groundwork to lay down with her during her stay here." The elf stated, waving his hands in dismissal before ascending the stairs to his study. "We have four days until the Tevinters arrive, so keep her in your sights at all times. The rest of you are free to do as you wish."

With this being said, Dirhael left for his study. Leaving Roy and the rest to deal with the nasty work of keeping a captive. Roy scoffed and cut his eyes to the mage lying so cold on the stone floor. She looked peaceful, almost. As if nothing was wrong. As if nothing had even occurred. But Roy didn't let his guard down, for he didn't exactly feel safe with the elf knowing she has magical abilities, but he also knew she needed full control of her hands to cast anything fancy. He silently hoped those ropes would be enough to silence her.

Eleana had apparently decided that she wasn't going to be the one to deal with all of this, for she just swiftly walked off without saying a word, going down towards the basement with Filgins, who continued to rub his burning temples. Those two must've been tired after their engagement with the elf, Filgins especially, so Roy didn't blame them for wanting to get some shuteye.

Menien, however, seemed awake and alert. Roy concluded that he must've been the one to knock her out. Roy knelt next to him, watching him hammer away at the stake. Each metal bang a loud reminder that they have a hell of a four days ahead of them.

"The others have gone off to nap. You want to take the first shift watching her or shall I?" Roy asked.

Menien paused and glanced down at him, frowning deeply.

"You do it. I've had about enough mage as I can stomach for a good bit." He shook his head before continuing his hammering. "I'll even pay you twenty silver if you take my shift too."

Roy grinned and accepted the offer. Twenty silver was twenty silver, and if the elf kept on napping then the whole shift would be fairly easy. Besides, the only real thing Roy had to do as of late was collect the debt money, and that wouldn't take longer than perhaps an hour.

Roy stood up and backed away, watching the man do his work. He didn't envy Menien at all. The heavy labor of the gang. He was hammering a steel stake into a stone floor. Only other man in the group capable of doing such a thing was Filgins, and he was out of commission thanks to the elf.

Part of Roy wished he was there at the scene so he could've watched Filgins get his ass handed to him, but the rest of him told him he didn't know how to fight a mage, and thus he was better off not having gone with them.

Roy slowly sauntered to a seat nearby, and sat his scabbard down next to his chair before plopping down and lazily spectating as the stout rogue swung the hammer down once more on the tough, stable stake.

Only one thing remained with Roy: He hoped they wouldn't regret kidnapping a mage.

***CLANG***

* * *

"Gruh…..where…..where is my….nine?" Roy mumbled to himself, looking every which way on the table before him for a nine of hearts card.

He searched the table left and right, up and down, and even went through the deck itself to find it. It wasn't there, and he sighed deeply, tapping his fingers away on the table as he contemplated where exactly it could be. He had it the night prior, this he remembered. After all, it was the first card in the deck.

" _There's only so many places it could be, where the hell is it?_ "

He glanced over the cards he had currently lined up in his little game of solitaire. Most of the deck was lined up properly, with each suit having most of their associated cards. He had a pattern going, put a card in one suit, move on to the next, and so on. He had landed on hearts and looked through everything he had for the nine of hearts, but it was missing.

He glanced under the table, using a lantern to help his vision. But no card was spotted, only stone and dirt.

"Fuck." Roy cursed, slapping the table in frustration before leaning back in his seat. It made a loud creaking sound as the wood strained under his weight, but it held. Roy didn't give it much thought either, falling would be the least of his worries today.

Everyone had gone, and it had been quite a few hours since they kidnapped their mark. She's been sleeping in place where she was tied up, quiet and complacent, for now. Roy was surprised she was still asleep, with the sun nearing its peak in the sky. Menien was out, Eleana was out, and Filgins was still asleep. Elroy was out watching the front door, and Dirhael was in his study reading, as he was one to do when nothing of interest came up.

Part of Roy wondered if the elf girl was dead because it didn't make any sense the fact she was still out cold. But when Roy would glance at her occasionally, he would notice her chest slowly rise when she took in air, and he would sigh a breath of steady relief at the fact she was still, in fact, alive.

Dirhael would go insane if the captive was dead. After all, it meant losing out on a huge paycheck.

And he would blame whoever was watching her at the time.

Roy had made good on his deal, taking over Menien's shift for him for twenty silver coins. It was a good deal to Roy. All he needed to keep himself awake was the coffee he took the liberty of brewing over the fireplace.

It had tasted bitter, but Roy knew he needed it if he was to stay awake.

He paused a second, and glanced behind his seat at the elf. The bruise on her head had darkened from purple to black as time moved on. To some extent, Roy felt a little bad for her. He knew that Menien was the one to take her down, Menien even admitted so. He said it wasn't hard, he just used Filgins as a distraction and struck her on the side of the head with the hilt of his dagger. He said he struck her hard.

Hard enough to the point she'll feel it for a few days after.

But that would likely be the least of her worries, considering her current predicament.

But Roy still felt like she's been out too long, and on some level hoped she comes out of it soon. A slave is no good if they're in a coma. Might as well be dead.

Roy shook his head and returned to his game of " _Find the Nine_ ". He searched for some time longer before giving up and stacking the cards over in a corner. He still had five hours left on his shift, and he doesn't even know who is next in line.

" _Guess we'll have to pull sticks…._ "

He contemplated for a while longer on what to do to occupy himself until, at least, the elf wakes up. When she was awake, he was certain he'd have his hands full from then onwards. She is a mage, after all. Seconds turned into minutes as he sat there, debating on reading a book by candle light or sharpening his shortsword. Neither seemed potentially exciting, and he wasn't exactly in the reading mood.

But just when he was about to pull out a whetstone from the cupboards, a sound caught his attention. A gentle, light whimper in a room that was totally quiet save for the crackling of the fireplace. He knew that could only be one person, and turned around to look at her. She was still lying there, but she was stirring in place, rocking left and right. Roy frowned and sighed deeply as the mage stirred herself awake.

Stretching his back out as he rose upwards, he continued to watch the waking elf carefully. She whined again, this time attempting to move her hands. She tried to bring them towards her face, but quietly gasped when she saw the rope binding her hands together. She wriggled for a moment, trying to loosen the ropes but failed, and she let them drop to her belly in quick defeat.

She moved her head right, glancing around her surroundings. She moved her head left, cutting her eyes at everything in the room. She didn't notice Roy. Not yet. But she did notice her surroundings were different than what she was used to, and that was enough to send her from uneasy to frightened.

She jerked forward, trying to sit up. She wasn't successful the first time, having fallen back to the floor and sending dust into the air. She tried again, this time gathering just enough balance to keep herself upright. She darted her eyes every which way, trying to suss out what's going on.

Then that's when she noticed Roy standing there, watching her with a smug grin.

"You're awake." Roy remarked. "How about that?"

The elf looked at the man, concerned about what was going on. Where she was. She tried to stand up, but quickly felt a tug at her hands when she got halfway to her feet. She looked around, trying to figure out what was grabbing her, only to realize that a small length of rope was leashing her from her bound hands to a stake in the floor nearby. She couldn't stand up, and only managed to enter a squat.

She wrestled with the ropes once more, swinging her arms as far left as she could manage in a vain attempt to break them, but it failed. She swung right, and no change. She continued to wriggle in her bindings until an amused Roy stopped her.

"Don't bother. You're caught up pretty good." Roy said, catching her attention. She looked rather surprised more than frightened at this point. As if there seemed to be some sort of unspoken misunderstanding only she was aware of.

"What is this?" She asked, her voice clearly betraying Dalish background. It stank of an elvish accent, yet sounded somewhat light and simple all at the same time. A clear distance existed between the gruff and brusque voices of the city and her forest tongue. "Who… who are you?" She added, looking around to discern her surroundings.

Roy chuckled and stepped forward towards the elf, causing her gaze to land on him in confusion. She didn't know what was going on, or why she was here. She certainly didn't know who Roy was, or what his purpose was to be. The only thing that made sense to her was what her thoughts told her.

They were yelling at her to get out.

"Dirhael!" Roy called out, further surprising the young elf as she flinched at the sudden call. "Your lady friend's awake!"

Roy glanced at the elf, and chuckled at her obvious distress and confusion. "Oh, you're gonna learn everything in a minute, friend. So I suggest you calm yourself and smack that stupid look off your bleedin' face before my boss does it for you."

She looked at him, her eyes wide and her mind full of questions. She didn't know where to begin with them, however, and she didn't know if she should ask. While she wasn't exactly frightened anymore, she was definitely confused.

"Where am I?" She asked simply, cutting her eyes to the ropes binding her hands tight. Roy was afraid of her for her magical powers, but he wasn't showing it. The bindings she bore gave him some level of comfort, too.

Roy didn't even have to answer, for soon after the voice of a cocky elf replied back. They both looked to the source, and there he was. Dirhael. Walking down the stairs with a spring in his step and a grin on his face. Roy crossed his arms and stepped back, bading Dirhael to enter the room.

The captive, however, only got more confused as Dirhael approached. He had his hands behind his back, and that grin on his face looked benevolent despite the situation they had found themselves in. The captive looked up at him as he stood over her, but didn't say a word. Slowly, the realization of her situation dawned on her. It was a painful slap to the face.

Dirhael's smile grew wider when he realized this, and knelt down to meet her at eye level. Part of her was confused that there was an elf around, and that the elf had taken part in her kidnapping. She glanced over at the only human in the room before Dirhael spoke in turn.

"Don't think he's going to help you." Dirhael remarked, noting her interest in Roy. "He's with me."

The captive looked back at Dirhael, and a sizzling frown sprouted on her face. Roy shook his head, knowing where this was going. He had heard it all before in previous jobs, as had Dirhael and the rest of the gang.

"Let me go." She demanded, her voice betraying no emotion. Roy looked at her, surprised that this one time the captive wasn't begging, but demanding instead. That's a first for him and Dirhael both. It caught Dirhael off guard as well, but he just laughed it off and looked to Roy.

"Wow. This one has some fight in her." Dirhael remarked, with Roy giving a nod in agreement.

"That's just not gonna fly, boss." Roy chipped in, finding the captive's dignified glare annoying.

"Agreed." Dirhael nodded, looking back to the captive sitting flat on the floor before him. She was not amused with the duo, and her previous look of surprise has evolved into a more serious look. Her eyebrows bent, her frown bright, and her eyes crackling with defiance. Her clueless attitude has changed. "We'll deal with that soon enough." Dirhael clicked his tongue, leaning towards the captive.

She scooted back, avoiding Dirhael as best she could. Roy, meanwhile, just quietly watched the exchange with bare interest. It was something to do at the very least, and was leagues more entertaining than - say - staring at a wall or looking for a nine of hearts. Dirhael looked her up and down for a moment, gauging her abilities for himself and indeed he was not impressed.

She had the same physique as he, all elves shared a skinny frame after all. But she was a mage, and the fact she wasn't casting anything fancy told him she either didn't want to fight or she hadn't the capacity or the means to fight. So either she was a coward, or she was powerless. Either way, she was of no threat to Dirhael and Roy, or the others for that matter.

Dirhael shook his head, and then leaned away from her. Uninterested in studying her further.

"Now, I know you must have plenty of questions." Dirhael suddenly piped up, his voice not betraying a violent emotion, but instead acted as one what sounded like benevolence and mercy.

Roy knew what he was doing.

" _A silver tongue as always._ "

"And believe me, in your position, you're right to have questions. But right now, we have a few things to go over during your stay with us, so try to bear with me and we can make this move along as painlessly, and as quickly, as possible. Is that understood?" Dirhael explained, watching the captive all the while to discern any reaction to his words.

There were none.

Not a single movement in her eyes, nor a single twitch on her ears.

Dirhael took this silence as an agreement and pursued his intentions further, ignoring the obviously defiant look she was giving both him and Roy, whom she would occasionally glance at. Roy and Dirhael both noticed this but didn't comment.

"Firstly, I'd like to get to know you a bit better. So let's start with your name." He offered. "Calling you by your name would be much better than saying " _Prisoner_ " or " _Captive_ ". So how about it?" Dirhael asked politely, attempting to use his silver tongue in calming her and perhaps even putting her in an agreeable mood.

The captive looked up at him, and then glanced downwards towards the dirty, stone floor. She wasn't willing to participate in this.

"What is your name?" Dirhael slowly asked, relaxing in front of the captive. Roy was already at ease, and thus felt the whole situation get less tense with Dirhael's relaxation. That's how good Dirhael was with his silver tongue, he could calm an entire room just by relaxing and smiling. Roy envied such an ability, wishing he had the same powerful charisma.

But the captive wasn't as awed with the ability as Roy. She merely huffed and kept her gaze floorside. She saw only his knees and nothing else. She refused to even glance up at him. This reticence gave Dirhael pause. He frowned, and looked at the young elf. Her hair was a mess, ragged and dirty. It seemed her little engagement with his men was a bad one.

For a moment he just looked at her, letting her silence wash over him. Then he smiled, and spoke softly: "You think, because you are silent, you are strong?"

The captive slightly slid her gaze upwards, hearing the soft malice in his voice.

Dirhael's smile faded fast and transformed into a vicious sneer. He reached out and grabbed the captive by her chin, wrapping his fingers around her dirty skin and squeezed tightly as he yanked her forward. She yelped out in surprise, her glare becoming a shocked expression.

"Listen here: There are two ways we can do this. You can cooperate and ensure your time here is spent in as little misery as possible, or you can continue your defiance and continue to annoy the piss outta me. I can be nice, or I can be an ass." Dirhael snapped at her, raising his voice and squeezing her tattooed chin even tighter. "Now let's look at it from _my_ perspective: I have an elven mage, whom I don't know, in _my_ home. Taking up _my_ space. Ruining _my_ floor with a goddamn stake. I could be angry at you. But I'm not. I wish to treat you with hospitality and courtesy, despite your situation, because I find myself to be a good host. But piss me off, and you'll see a really bad side of me you'll wish you've never seen."

The captive was shocked, her face sold it immediately. Whether she felt intimidated or scared or just plain surprised wasn't something Roy could discern easily, but he knew how Dirhael felt.

He was containing the anger he felt, and only letting a fraction of it out.

Dirhael was a master of his emotions and knew how to control them properly so he could control the room. When he was happy, he let it out when he had company to ease them and make them happy, and when he was angry? He would let out just the appropriate amount of anger to get his point across. Whether it be from subtle to very, and Dirhael was probably around the halfway mark between the two. He recognized the defiance in the captive's face, expressions, and actions - He was using his anger to control the situation.

He was trying to scare her into submission.

It seemed to be working, as it took the bruised elf by complete surprise. Dirhael brought the elf closer, close enough to where she could feel his breath brushing against her tattooed skin. She would scrunch her nose with each breath he gave away, as his breath stank of something rotten.

"Now, I would think very carefully on your next choice, for I am a man of words **and** action…. Take that how you will." Dirhael growled, watching the captive shrivel and shake as his threats shook her. Her defiance was still there, somewhere, but she was more taken away by the sudden outburst of anger he demonstrated.

Roy only snickered. Dirhael was nothing if not predictable.

"So, we'll try that again." Dirhael shoved her back, watching as her head bounced back and forth from the force she fell back with, and deepened his frown as he repeated his previous question. "What. Is. Your. Name?" He gritted his teeth and blew out hot air, doing his best to intimidate the elven captive.

She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but remained silent and lowered her eyes so as to not meet Dirhael's. Was she intimidated? Did Dirhael succeed in scaring her? Roy honestly couldn't tell, he didn't have a knack for reading people. But Dirhael did, and Dirhael's angry grimace spoke volumes about what he knew.

She stammered for a moment before her words became clear.

"It's….Merrill…." She said, reluctantly. "My name is Merrill."

Dirhael looked at her frightened face, and onto him burned a complacent grin that replaced his angry frown. He leaned away from her, chuckling lightly as she pouted and avoided his gaze. The elven captive didn't really look intimidating on second glance. Sure, she was a mage, but she looked young and stupid too. Roy believes she can pretend to be strong and brave all she wants, but in the end all it will take to diminish her strength is an angry Dirhael, who can get his way with the click of his tongue. Roy envied such an ability, but everyone in this gang had their speciality and that speciality complimented the others.

Dirhael, despite being the leader and thus rarely out committing the crimes, was no different. He could talk a guard out of his sword and shield and rob them still at the same time.

"Now. Was that so hard?" Dirhael asked, reaching out and patting the elf on the head. She let out a light gasp and looked up at him, he retained the smile and added another snicker in between his breathing and quickly calmed down; Dirhael had gotten what he wanted.

"In the future, darling, please cooperate. Pissing me off is very…..unhealthy."

"I can see that." She quietly replied, trying to avoid his eyes as best she could. She would eye Roy in between her words, much to Roy's annoyance. Dirhael continued to notice when she would cut her eyes away to him and made a mental note to question Roy about it later. But for now, he had some more things to discuss with the bruised elf.

"Now, you see, my name is Dirhael. You won't be seeing me as much as him, but know I'll always be nearby to keep you safe." Dirhael affirmed, patting her on her shoulder to try and calm her from his recent outburst. He cut a glance at Roy, and then quickly wrapped his arm over Merrill's shoulder and pointed him out to her. "Now, I see you've already noticed my handsome friend with the headband over there."

Roy chuckled and waved mockingly.

"His name is Roy. You're gonna be seeing _a lot_ of him. Him and everyone else." He explained slowly, his grin unfading. Merrill looked Roy up and down, and her eyes suddenly widened as a result. This went unnoticed to Roy and Dirhael, who quickly detached from her and stood up. He paced around for a second, keeping his eyes on her as he thought for a moment. He wanted to lay down the rules for her " _invited_ " stay here, and did just that.

He explained to her the rules of her stay, and the penalties for failing to abide by any of those rules. Merrill remained somewhat attentive as he spoke, refusing to speak lest she anger the elf again. She wasn't so sure she wanted to see him angry a second time.

At first, he explained her predicament, and how he lamented her involvement in this.

"I'm sorry you had to be dragged into this, my friend." He had apologized, and he sounded almost sincere to Roy. Roy would look at him when he spoke, confused about his choice of words but ultimately chose to go along with it anyways.

The only thing he kept from her was the fact he was intending to sell her off as a slave. He figured she was better off not knowing this part until the day of the transaction.

Next were the absolute rules. First he explained she would eat when everyone else ate, and would be fed by whoever pulled the shortest stick. Her thirst for anything would also be sated whenever she desired, within reason and if the person watching over her felt like getting up. If not, she would drink when she ate.

Second, he explained the rules about annoying the other members of the gang. She would not be allowed to speak her mind except for when being spoken to or if she was thirsty. There would be no exceptions to this rule, as Dirhael liked it quiet in his home. Dirhael wanted to keep it that way.

One rule was about her magic casting, and how she was prohibited from casting anything fancy.

"Now, I know about your being a mage and all. My associates told me aaaall about it." Dirhael had said with a wry smirk. Merrill had looked up at him, a question brewing in her mind. Dirhael set it to rest with the simple reply "Don't worry, we're not gonna turn you into the Templars…. You're much more valuable to us in your current state."

He added "But we don't trust mages around here. No one does. Mages are nothing but trouble. Cast anything fancy, and you will regret it. I promise you, I'll ensure you never cast again if you get any colorful ideas." Dirhael threatened, letting a bit of his scornful self drip out into the open. Merrill looked down at her bound hands, and shuddered thinking of what would happen. She nodded in agreement, assuring him she wouldn't do anything untoward.

"You won't get a problem out of me, I assure you."

Dirhael grinned.

"That's what I like to hear."

The elf clicked his tongue as he thought of what else to say. He glanced between the two others present in the room before his eyes landed on Roy finally. He looked at him, then looked back at Merrill's dark bruise, and quickly he formed another makeshift rule that would be directed to Roy and the others.

"Why am I here?" Merrill asked, the question having been repeating itself in her head countless times since she awoken. Dirhael didn't even study her, and quieted her up with a risen hand and a " _Not now._ ".

Roy, noticing his boss looking directly at him, tensed up and set his arms down to his sides. He rose a brow, and questioned Dirhael on his sudden interest in him

"Boss?"

"Roy, I've got a rule for you and the rest now. Listen carefully because I will not repeat myself, understood?" Dirhael began, striding towards him with a serious look on his face. Roy looked at him before cutting a glance at Merrill, then back at him. Merrill was watching as well, but with interest instead of confusion or fear. "She's valuable to us. For reasons she doesn't need to know, get it?" Dirhael asked him, keeping his voice low as to keep Merrill's ears hungry for information.

Roy looked at him funny, then it dawned on him the reason he was wording it this way and nodded in understanding. Dirhael smirked, and continued with what he was going to say.

"This woman." He paused and pointed at Merrill. "Is our…. guest… during her stay here. As such, she is not to be harmed. By you. Or by anyone."

Roy looked at the captive, and she looked at him. She was listening to the whole thing and it was obvious she was a bit confused at being called a guest rather than a prisoner. For a brief moment, she looked as if she had something she wished to say, but thought better of it and remained silent with a downcast glance to the floor. Roy shook his head and turned his eyes back to Dirhael.

"If you harm her - for any reason bar self defense or her casting magic - then you're gonna answer to me. That goes for everyone else too, so make sure you inform them about this." Dirhael leaned forward, and quietly added "She's more valuable if we leave her be. Don't diminish it, Roy."

Roy, annoyed he was being told to contain himself, gave a lazy salute and told the elf "Yes ser, little elf, ser." Roy mocked him, causing Dirhael to narrow his eyes and scrunch up his face. Roy grinned, knowing he had just annoyed the elf. But Dirhael composed himself and backed away, uninterested in pursuing anything with Roy.

"That's basically it, Merrill. Follow those rules, and your time here will be but a fragment of history." Dirhael smiled in her direction, but faltered when he noticed she wasn't looking at him. He scoffed as a result, but didn't do anything else. If she wanted to remain downcast then that was her business, not his.

As Dirhael moved to return to his study, he stopped when Merrill spoke up a question that caused them both to look at her.

"Why am I here?" She asked carefully and slowly, raising her eyes to meet Dirhael's. "Why have you taken me from my home?"

Dirhael watched her for a moment, and then cut his gaze to Roy, who was equally uninterested in answering her question. Roy knew why he was keeping it a secret, and knew well to keep her remaining in the dark. It was an unspoken order, but one Roy was going to follow well enough.

"Roy. Remind the others. Keep her fed and watered, and no abuse. I'm counting on you all to see this job through, understand?" Dirhael asked one final time. Roy nodded to him, and soon Dirhael ascended upstairs and disappeared from view.

That left Merrill and Roy all alone.

Roy was content to leave the elf be, with her being a mage, as he just didn't want anything to do with the dangers that came with her presence. But he also understood well what Dirhael wanted and even agreed with the motives. The Tevinters wanted a healthy slave, not a beat-up, starving, mutilated one. Dirhael was fine with punishing her for her magic, but barred anything else from happening to her.

To a point it did confuse Roy, and no less Merrill, but Roy was fine with it. He knew this would be like any other job. He just had to do his part and keep his mouth shut.

But Merrill was very confused about Dirhael's actions versus his words. She looked to Roy, voicing her concerns to the young thief.

"Your boss is a bit bipolar, isn't he?"

Roy glanced at her, surprised she felt the need to comment on Dirhael's actions and words.

True, Dirhael had threatened Merrill but then turned around and ordered them to leave her be unless she deserved it, such as an escape attempt or magic casting. It was a bit bipolar, but Dirhael had a motive for everything, and an answer to anything. He scared Merrill into submission when she tried to defy him, and that's all he wanted to do. That was his answer. He wasn't really going to hurt her but she doesn't have to know that.

It's better off she doesn't know it.

But Roy somewhat agreed with her regardless, and this was due to the fact that Roy knew exactly what was going to happen to all the coin they got for this job, and Roy wasn't happy at all with it. He scratched at his neck and slowly agreed with the elf's statement.

"He's something, that's for sure…." Roy quietly agreed, but not for the same reasons Merrill thought. With that being said, he paused a brief second and grew a deep frown as he realized that Merrill was breaking one of the rules Roy was to enforce on her, and he dismissed her with an annoyed wave of his hand. "Now, shut it you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised and proof read by a good friend who goes by the name Frozen Foe.


	4. Chapter 4 - Collecting a Debt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter revised as of 6/28/20

Lowtown was as it always was.

Quiet. Dirty. Filled with beggars. Thugs watching for opportunity from the shadows. Merchants peddling their wares. Templars hunting for apostates, such as the kind Roy held captive back home. Guards lazing about, wishing they could spend their day at the tavern, and average peasants too poor to even think about perusing Hightown's markets.

This place was all too familiar to Roy, as he once called this part of town home before Dirhael found him. Like Darktown, he knew all the streets and where they went and the people who stalked them. He was careful, though, not to draw attention to himself. Not yet anyways. He would draw enough in time when he reached his destination.

His shift guarding Merrill back at Dirhael's Folly was a slow one. The day had slowly transpired into the late afternoon with him just sitting there, sipping his coffee, and watching the bound elf sit alone. Lost in both a literal and figurative sense. Occasionally she would have glanced at Roy, but when Roy met her gaze she would retreat back to the floor, as if she wasn't watching him at all.

Filgins had remained asleep all day, his headache having seemingly been a powerful one. After all, in his words, he was smacked into a fireplace headfirst by magical means. It was no wonder he wanted to do nothing but rest in a cot, nursing his head wound by himself.

Eleana had returned from her trip into town around the end of his double shift with no news of a future job or even with anything to snack on, as Roy had found himself to be quite hungry at the time of her arrival. He was relieved, however, when Eleana said she would take over for him and give him the chance to go eat or even rest for a bit until supper. Apparently it was Menien's turn to make supper for the gang tonight, and Menien was a great cook.

Roy couldn't wait.

But unfortunately, he couldn't rest. Not today, for he had another job to take care of. One Dirhael contracted him directly to take care of.

A debtor owing eighty silver to an unnamed loan shark. That's all Roy needed to know, and he intended to make him pay. Didn't matter how, all he was told to do was to make sure he didn't end up dead. Dead people are bad for the loan shark business.

So he took off into town, leaving Eleana and Merrill all alone in the dark, dimly lit building.

Not a moment too soon, either. Roy was beginning to lose his own mind staring at that accursed mage.

So Roy wandered Lowtown's streets and bazaars, looking for his mark. He was told that the merchant would be set up near the docks, and so that is where he was headed. He made a point to avoid any guard in case they were still looking for him for that robbery he pulled. But no one called him out, no one recognized him. Everyone was too busy going about their own business in the city of chains to give two hoots about Roy.

Besides, to any passersby, Roy looked like a mercenary. Typical for Kirkwall to see, and Roy was happy to keep the façade burning brightly.

At one point he passed by The Hanged Man, and much like every other day, you could smell the booze and hear the lutes playing from outside. Roy smiled as he walked by the door, relishing the next chance he could get to visit the establishment.

The walk to the docks, from there on, was pretty straight forward for Roy. A few turns and streets and he was there. The patronage of the docks was said to be even more dangerous than that of the streets of Lowtown proper, but Roy wasn't concerned for any of that. Sailors were rough, they said. But Roy hasn't met a man who could be rougher than his sword arm.

He took a good look around the docks, and it was pretty much like it always was. Plenty of ships coming in and docking, and a few departing the city of chains for a better place. Some were merchant ships, some were passenger ships - filled to the brim with people escaping such a terrible city - and one ship even flew the flag of Ferelden. Must've been a military ship that came to apprehend a criminal, Roy deduced as much as he watched it sail into the distance.

He was glad it wasn't him.

Of the ships that were docked in the harbor, many had sailors running to and fro, hauling cargo on and off the ships, setting anchors as they docked, and making repairs to their hulls where appropriate.

Of the many people scraping together a living here, there were merchants. Plenty of them. Peddling their gear and wares to the people coming into the city and to those who were just making a stop off.

Some looked like pirates, some looked like soldiers and mercenaries. A few elves, dwarves, and a qunari or two with their big horns and huge weapons. But the majority were human. Boring and plain like the rest of the city.

"Elixirs! Potions! Remedies of all sorts, here today for only a small fee! Come one, come all!" One merchant was going on, trying to lure in the sailors with her talk of a cure for scurvy and other nautical afflictions.

"Selling arms and armor for any adventurer looking to brave the high seas! All cheap, and all must go! You won't regret dealing with me when you're facing down a pirate captain!" Another merchant - this time an arms merchant - was broadcasting, hoping to lure in adventurers and mercenaries with his talk of fine weapons and armor made from the " _finest_ " blacksmiths in the city.

"What a load of cow shit…" Roy mumbled.

But Roy wasn't interested in a lady peddling cures for manhood problems or a faulty weapons merchant. He was looking for someone else entirely.

A rug merchant, peddling apparently cheaply made rugs to those with enough coin and stupidity to buy a rug on a dock.

He glanced over everyone, walking by sailors and captains, mercenaries and soldiers, trying to find his target.

But the place was too crowded with busybodies and travelers for him to recognize one person in particular.

He refused to give up though. He wanted to see if Dirhael would truly pay him out of his own pockets. He would drink his night away if that was the case, as Dirhael paying _him_ would be a sight to see indeed.

Looking around, he saw a sailor standing all alone with a piece of paper overlooking a rather large ship. He had his back to Roy, reading whatever it was that was in his hands. Roy looked him over a moment before approaching. He thought maybe this sailor could point him in the right direction.

"...and Daniel should be back…..tonight…..with a shipment of fleece….." He was mumbling to himself, repeating what was on his manifest. "...bound for…. Rialto…. Antiva…."

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a rug merchant by the name of Mernan. You know of any " _Mernans_ " around here?" Roy interrupted him. The sailor turned around and looked at him, quite annoyed to have been interrupted from his report. But after looking the thief up and down and noting his equipment, he decided not to say anything untoward.

The sailor thought for a moment, and he told Roy what needed to know. Apparently this Mernan had tried unloading a few rugs onto his fellow crew members just a few hours prior and had a stall located at the far end of the harbor.

Roy thanked the sailor and moved on.

It wasn't hard to find the stall in question after being pointed in the right direction, but it was crowded where it was located. Many sailors were congregating on this end of the dock for a purpose unknown to Roy. But he saw who he was looking for alright, a middle-aged ginger haired man leaning against his stall all bored like. Another fellow was with him, a much younger man who was tending to something in the back of the stall.

Roy approached the stall, watching the sailors nearby who, as it turned out, were engaged in a loud game of dice.

The middle-aged man noticed Roy's approach, and his bored frown disappeared rapidly with each step Roy took towards them.

"Welcome, ser, welcome!" The man announced, taking a step behind his stall where the young man was working. He, too, turned around to look at Roy. A smile was living on his face as well.

"Good day." Roy greeted him warmly, opting to take the passive approach to the situation first to see if that would get him the results he needed. "I'm looking for a man named Mernan Llivida."

The man's smile widened exponentially at the mention of the name, and announced that he was, in fact, Mernan Llivida.

"I see you've heard of me! Procurer of fine rugs! I sell them all at decent prices!" He explained, and took a glance over his shoulder at the young man behind him. The younger man shared his facial features and hair color, but sported a teenage-like moustache and a soul patch underneath his lips. "Ah, and this is my son, Dugan. Dugan, say hi to the customer…"

"No need, Mernan." Roy waved Dugan off. He leaned on the stall counter, pretending to look over the wares Mernan offered, but in reality was browsing for anything valuable Mernan possessed.

Mernan observed his interest, and joined Roy by the counter.

"Can I interest you in any of these fine rugs?" Mernan asked. "Each one is an easy twenty silver, and they look great in the living room or bedroom!"

Roy chuckled at the small but fair price, and looked Mernan square in the eye with a friendly, but devious, smile. Mernan didn't notice however, and only saw an eager customer at his stall.

"Earning money to pay back your loan shark, Mernan?" Roy earnestly asked. His smile didn't fade. But Mernan's did, and his eyes widened slowly in confusion.

At first Mernan didn't reply, and simply looked at Roy with a very confused glance. Dugan also frowned, not understanding what Roy was getting at. Roy kept his eyes on the merchant all the while.

"Er, come again?"

"You see, Mernan. I came at the request of my boss, who happens to be friends with your loan shark." Roy started, his eyes shifting to Dugan as he spoke. He noted the kids sudden confusion and decided to explain to him as well."Your daddy, kid, owes some bad people a lot of money. Almost a whole sovereign."

Dugan's eyes widened, and Mernan looked to the dirt with a heavy sigh as his son spoke up. Unsure of what to make of Roy's accusation.

"Father?" Dugan asked. "What does the man mean?"

Mernan looked to Dugan and smiled briefly before looking back at Roy, who waited with tapping fingers and a risen brow for Mernan's response. It was a slow one, as he couldn't exactly figure out the right thing to say.

Mernan lowered his voice and leaned forward. "Listen, mister. Can we have this conversation somewhere private? Somewhere where my son isn't present?" Mernan asked.

But Roy merely laughed, catching the attention of some nearby sailors who were quietly watching the game of dice before them. Roy's genuine loud laughter caused them to scrunch up their faces in annoyance before going back to their spectating. Neither the merchant nor Roy noticed their momentary interest.

But as Roy composed himself, he refused the merchant's request with a few snickers in between, quite amused by the merchant's need to keep his son in the dark about his shady dealings in the underworld.

Even though Roy had calmed himself, his mind was still reeling from the amusing request. " _How hilarious. A father doing stupid shit behind his family's back. Classic._ "

"Mernan." Roy began with a heavy exhale. "I'm gonna only ask this once: Give me the money you owe your loan shark - eighty silver, and we'll forget about this whole situation." Roy offered, leaning forward on the counter as his smile grew slightly. "Who knows? Maybe we'll see each other again in The Hanged Man, and we'll have a drink and this'll be behind us. Whaddya say?"

Mernan looked at Roy carefully, then cast a glance back at his son who stood there confused and concerned for his father. Mernan then sighed and put a hand to his forehead, contemplating on the mess he had just found himself in.

But as Roy's offer bounced around in his head, Mernan decided he had nothing to give Roy yet.

"I'm sorry…. But I don't have anything to give him…." Mernan whimpered into his hand, much to Roy's satisfaction. "If… you just give me a few weeks I'll earn-"

Roy stopped listening and nodded as he slowly glanced around for nearby guards, and much to his enjoyment he noted there were none around. In fact, the only people nearby were the loud sailors engrossed in their game. Roy then smiled and smacked the counter hard, shocking Mernan out from hiding in his palms.

"No, see…. I was told to get the debt. Today." Roy informed him, his eyes getting more serious by the second. "No later, Mernan."

Mernan gulped, and stepped further away from Roy. He wasn't liking the look Roy was giving him.

"Diplomacy failed, like always." Roy remarked, stepping around the counter slowly. Much to the growing discomfort of Mernan and Dugan. "Now we do things Roy's way." He grinned.

Roy eyed Mernan up and down, and then studied Dugan for a moment. Neither looked like they were willing to fight back, but they both looked uneasy, Mernan especially looked frightened. Dugan simply looked like he didn't understand what was going on and was constantly inquiring with his father on what kind of debt he owed and to who he owed it to.

But Mernan remained silent, more focused and frightened of what Roy could do. He saw the sword, and he saw how prepared Roy was to deal with conflict. But Roy wasn't just set on intimidating him. Roy wanted to have a little fun.

Roy's eyes moved to the surroundings of the stall and he noted how fragile parts of the stall were. The rugs hanging on the ceiling, on the walls, in the back. His grin deepened as he reached up and grabbed hold of one of the rolled up rugs above him.

"W-w-what're you doing?" Mernan asked, protectively stepping in front of Dugan and shielding him from anything that Roy could possibly do to the young man.

"This is a nice looking rug." Roy remarked, looking over the rug in his hands. It was red and gold, with black accents here and there. Rolled up, it wasn't too long, just about a quarter of the size of Roy's leg. He easily held it within two hands. But besides the fact it looked nice, it also felt like it was made of cheap material. Instead of wool, it felt like something worse. Roy couldn't put a finger on it, though. "Cheap, though."

Mernan just looked at him, confused. Dugan peered out from behind his father, equally as confused as his father. For a moment Roy just looked it up and down, even tossing it in the air and catching it as it came down to assess its weight.

Then, without hesitating, Roy launched it at Mernan. Striking him square in the face and sending him reeling back over his son.

"What the-" Mernan shouted out, but Roy didn't let him finish that thought as he jumped upon him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and striking him in the gut.

"Father!" Dugan shouted out, backing away from the violent confrontation with haste.

"Stay outta this, boy!" Roy fired back before striking Mernan again, this time right at the bridge of his nose. Mernan poured his pain into a single shout, stumbling backwards into the dirt below. But Roy caught him and hit him again.

"We're not playing games, Mernan!" Roy shouted, striking the man again, this time much harder. Mernan yelped as Roy swung him against the wall of his stall, rugs shaking and falling to the floor in response. "Where's our goddamn money?!"

"I-I don't h-have it! I don't h-have it! P-Please!" Mernan begged in between his pained grunts, but Roy wasn't having none of it. He dragged him forward, then rammed him back into the wall once again, eliciting a painful grunt from the middle-aged merchant.

"Get off my father, you brute!" Dugan shouted as he rushed Roy with his arms outstretched, but he was shorter than Roy, short enough to where Roy just shrugged him off with a simple shove. Dugan stumbled back before losing his balance and crumbling to the dirt floor.

"Get back, boy!"

The commotion was starting to draw the notice of nearby sailors who, one by one, stood up from their game of dice and observed the confrontation from a safe distance.

Nobody in the business of the law had taken notice, yet.

Roy rammed him against the wall again, then kneed him in the gut. Once, twice, a third time. Again, and again, and again. Each time harder than the last.

"You think robbing a loan shark is all a game? Huh?!" Roy shouted at him, ramming him against the wall again. "A clue: It isn't!"

Roy grabbed him by the throat and leaned in. He grit his teeth, and offered a chance for this to end before it got any more serious. "Where's the money?" He asked.

Mernan, groaning from the sudden assault he just endured, didn't answer. Instead, he fell into a coughing fit that disgusted Roy. He let the man go, and watched as he slid downwards to the floor without so much as a hint of resistance.

"No answer?" Roy noted. "Fine then. Have it your way…"

Roy reached down and grabbed the man by his collar before tossing him clear across the stall. Knocking over rugs and tables set aside for materials and other little things as he came crashing through.

"Please!" Mernan begged as he reached for something to try grab hold of, all while Dugan watched in horror as his father was viciously assaulted.

"Too late for that now, you had your chance, Mernan!" Roy shouted back as he stood over the man. He bent down and hoisted the man up before striking him in the gut, then he rose his fist and, without hesitating, brought it down hard into the merchant's face, shattering the man's nose and causing him to scream in sheer agony as his bones popped and blood scattered.

By now most of the nearby sailors had stopped what they were doing to watch the scene unfold. They were silent, and some winced with each strike the unknown attacker gave. Some were muttering amongst themselves, but Roy didn't pay them any mind. He was too busy dealing with a deadbeat.

"Father!" Dugan shouted again as he backed away into the far corner of the stall. He was mortified, watching his father's attacker land strike after strike on his parent. He looked to the ground, his breathing erratic and uneven. But he managed to summon up some courage as he took a stand by shouting, at the top of his lungs, a warning to the rogue. "Get your dirty hands off my father!"

He put a hand on his right arm and began scribbling into it with a lone finger. Blood began to seep from the wound he was creating, and Roy paused his assault to witness what the young man was doing, as did Mernan. Mernan, who was developing a nasty shiner while blood poured out of his broken nose, knew exactly what the young man was about to do and shouted for him to stop. Pleaded with him, more like.

"No, Dugan!" Mernan shouted back, shocking Roy to a small degree as he watched the young man perform whatever it was he was doing. "Don't! You know what'll happen if you do! Just stay out of this! Please!" The father begged his son.

Roy was letting his anger out two-fold, on both Mernan and Dugan. He was getting ready to involve Dugan in this more, and his want for doing so was getting stronger with each interruption the boy gave. "Do as he says, boy! Or I'll put you in the ground with your deadbeat father!" Roy threatened, dropping the man to the dirt and turning on him with an angry glare and gritted teeth.

Dugan glared at Roy for a moment, his finger pausing as the blood continued to dribble past his finger and down his arm. Roy stared back at him, seeing the determination in the young man's eyes. He slowly trailed a hand to the hilt of his sword, and watched Dugan contemplate on his next move.

The sailors watched with extreme interest, unsure of what was going to happen next but quickly understanding that it was going to be interesting. Some were looking to Dugan to scare off Roy however he was planning, and some were looking to Roy to run Dugan through as entertainment. Mernan, in the meantime, was coughing up flechettes of his own blood. He was rolling around in place, cradling his nose and groaning in pain as the blood drained down his cheeks and stained his shirt. He could barely make out his son and his attacker in his blurred vision.

Dugan sighed and let his arms fall to his sides.

"Yes father." Dugan conceded, lowering his head in defeat as Roy looked on with a smug grin.

"Good boy." Roy commented, releasing the hilt of his sword, unconcerned with whatever Dugan was going to do. Roy easily figured it wouldn't have scared him anyways. How could he be scared of such a runt, he thought. "Now Mernan…." Roy singsongedly called out to the bleeding man. "I want the money. Give me the money."

He turned on Mernan, quickly stomping on the man's chest. Mernan yelped and tossed over in place, grasping the pained area with shaky hands. Dugan couldn't handle it anymore, and decided that if he couldn't fight, he would bargain.

"Mister! I can give you the money!" Dugan called out, interrupting Roy as he was preparing to strike the man again with his foot. Roy arched his brows and turned to look at the young man. Glancing between his frightened eyes and the boy's bleeding arm, he grinned in surprise and put a hand on his belt as he approached him.

"Can you, now?" Roy asked, intrigued with Dugan's offer. "Well then, by all means give it to me. Now." Roy demanded, staring the young man down.

Dugan, looking up at Roy, let his defiance die down in favor of protecting his father. But despite his apparent lack of fear for Roy himself, he possessed a clearly shaky voice. Possibly from what he just witnessed.

"Will you promise to leave my father alone?" Dugan asked him.

Roy chuckled and advanced on the young man slowly, who had nowhere else to go for he had already backed himself into a corner. "Boy, your father is of no interest to me. All I care about is getting the debt the deadbeat owes. If you can give it to me, you damn well better."

Dugan looked at his father and sighed before accepting Roy's response. Turning around, he reached for a small container under wraps. It looked to be a lockbox of some sorts, and Roy grinned as the young man brought it out in plain view.

Meanwhile, the sailors were watching Roy carefully. Some were grumbling. Some were amused. Some were surprised. Some were glaring at him. Others were indifferent. Roy didn't know it, but some of them were muttering among themselves. Words of ill intent.

Dugan struggled with the key for a moment, his arm shaking and flinching from the pain he had inflicted on himself. Roy didn't care though. All he cared about was getting the debt money however possible. Diplomacy was for suckers, anyways, Roy thought.

The lockbox clicked open, and inside were a few pouches of coin. Roy looked them over and his grin grew wider at the income Mernan was apparently making. Selling cheap rugs seemed to be a great business after all.

"Here." Dugan said to the thief, picking a pouch at random and tossing it to him. Mernan just watched on with blurry eyes and a bleeding nose as his son took care of the debt in his stead. "We made enough today to cover the debt three-fold."

Mernan let loose a loud cough, blood flying from between his lips and onto the dirt below. Roy turned and looked at him, annoyed with the sudden eruption. He then weighed the pouch in his hand, judging the contents for himself.

"Should be a sovereign in that one, plus a good number of silver. Just take it. Take it and please leave us alone." Dugan calmly, yet shakily, begged the thief. Roy smiled and hooked the pouch on his belt, unbothered with actually going through it.

"If there isn't eighty silver in here, I'll be back..." Roy remarked to the young man. He tried his best to sound menacing, but in reality he was mostly amused with Dugan's concession for his father's sake. "With friends." He added.

" _If only things could go this smoothly all the time._ " Roy thought.

He turned away from the young man, uninterested in him any further. He moved to leave the stall, but stopped himself as he stood over Mernan. He was just laying there, groaning and bleeding. Too scared and too hurt to even attempt to stand up. Roy shook his head before kneeling next to the man, maliciously whispering into his ear.

"Let this be a lesson to you: Don't cross the underworld. Pay your debts on time." Roy threatened with a friendly smile.

Mernan moaned out an agreement, and Roy exited the stand without another word. Much to the agitation of some of the onlooking sailors. Roy looked over at the bunch, and frowned at the attention he was receiving from no good pirates such as them.

"What the fuck you all looking at?" Roy confronted the group of ragged seamen. Some of them backed away, uninterested in dealing with a confrontation with a dangerous, angry looking man. "Go back to your fucking gambling, idiots!"

Some of the men, however, were talking among themselves. As the sailors began to scatter away from the scene, three men in particular remained where they were, shooting hateful glances at Roy.

Roy didn't notice, though. He turned away, chuckling at the fact he not only got to beat up a shop owner, but scared a bunch of supposed tough as nails sailors as well. He huffed, satisfied with his day and tried to walk off, but a voice caught him as he was moving away.

"You think you're so tough, you backbiter?" Someone called out to him. Roy half turned, eyeing for whoever had said that. "I mean, really? Picking on a defenseless shop owner? Why don't you go after someone with real teeth?"

Roy spotted who had said it. The group of sailors who remained were watching him, with the one in the middle stepping forward with a spiteful glare. He was a gritty man, with dirt caking his face and a deep, red scar running along his cheek and no hair whatsoever to speak of. Roy sized the man up as he made himself clear to the thief. Short britches ending at his knees, a red shirt that was torn here and there by the ravages of the sea. A curved sword on his hip, and his two compatriots were dressed rather the same. Roy couldn't tell if they were pirates or not, but Roy knew one thing: They were looking for a fight.

And he would gladly oblige if that was true.

" _Beating up a merchant might as well be child's play compared to this…_ "

"What was that, sea-boy?" Roy stepped forward with his voice loud and clear. The scattering sailors stopped and looked back at the confrontation, surprised and intrigued. "You got somethin' to say to me?" Roy asked him, eliciting a sinister chuckle from the sailor.

"Yeah, more of a bone to pick really. What the hell was that about?" The sailor confronted him. "You like pickin' on lonely old salesmen? Got nothin' better to do with your time?"

Roy looked at him, then at his friends. He snickered and shook his head. They were smiling and egging their friend on quietly, what they were saying Roy couldn't hear. But this told him enough that they were too chicken to join in themselves, that they had to rely on their brash friend to confront Roy.

Roy glanced between them both and smiled brightly. A bright smile that brought a frown to the sailor's face. The sailor noted his cockiness and looked around, unsure of what to make of such a supposedly stupid gesture. Even Dugan and Mernan were watching, the latter laying flat on the dirty ground with blood pouring out of his nose; Dugan was trying to help him up, but Mernan was just in too much pain.

"Why so cocky, you backbiter?" The sailor demanded an answer, completely unsure why the thief was smiling. There were three of them and only one of him. What did he have to smile about?

But Roy wasn't content, nor willing, to answer them. He just maintained his grin, chuckling lightly as the " _rough and tough_ " sailors stood up for a man who meant nothing to them and to nobody save his idiot son.

"Why don't you three walk away before you get me mad." Roy offered, stepping forward, his smile unfaltering. "What you saw there? That was just business. Fun, fun business."

The sailor scoffed, finding himself annoyed by Roy's defiance to yield. The very fact Roy continued to brush him off did him no service, and he just got redder with anger as Roy spoke. It didn't help that his friends were egging him on with comments such as "Don't sit there and listen to him babble!" or "You gonna really let him get away with what he just did? Kick his bleedin' ass!". These comments were just bolstering his resolve and his ego, and Roy's smug look was only pissing him off further.

"You really think you're so tough, little man? You think you have the balls to take on a real man?!" The sailor raised his voice, stepping forward in an effort to challenge Roy. But Roy didn't move. He didn't falter. He didn't flinch. He just stood there, smiling as wide as could be.

This further angered the sailor, whose red face was becoming brighter and brighter with each moment he beheld Roy. Roy saw his fists clenching shut, and the sailor's friends shoved him forward with words of encouragement. His sneer was as ugly as it was angry, and Roy snickered at the man's attempts at intimidation.

But this snicker did it, and the sailor had had enough of Roy's attitude.

"You're a fucking leach, y'here me?" The sailor shouted, drawing more people in to watch the growing confrontation."I'm gonna smack that dumb look right off your stupid face!"

"Kick that bastard's ass!" Dugan shouted.

The sailor rushed Roy, running as fast as his legs could take him. Fists raised, and ready for a beatdown.

Roy ran to meet him head on, and the fight began in earnest.

When they had met, the sailor wasted no time in knocking Roy to his knee with a swift, heavy punch. Roy's vision blackened for a moment as he stumbled, pain surging through his jaw like a wildfire.

But Roy didn't hesitate and shot back up with a swing of his own, catching the sailor off guard as he smiled and showboated. He swung at the man, catching him in the shoulder. The sailor staggered, and Roy swung again. This time landing one right in the sailor's mouth. He cried out, staggering back and holding his jaw as Roy opted to continue the assault.

He swung again, but the sailor caught him with his arm and shoved him away as he stood up, holding and massaging his pained jaw.

"Bastard!" The sailor spat out, rushing Roy a second time.

The sailor lashed out at him with both arms, aiming to grab for the thief's throat. But Roy sidestepped him, grabbing him by the back of his bald head and forcing him into the dirt below. The sailor struggled for a moment, squirming under Roy's firm grip and strength. He tried to force himself up, but Roy punished each attempt with a jab in the side and pushed his head further in the dirt.

"Not so tough now, are ya?!" Roy taunted him, jabbing the sailor once again in the side as he squirmed and wriggled in place. Roy knelt on him, trying to use his weight to keep him down and out, all while the sailor's friends called out to him.

"Ralph! Get up man! Get up!"

"Don't let him win! Come on!"

All the while, sailors and passersby were cheering on different sides. Some were jeering at Roy for his dirty tactics, and some were amused with what he was doing. Dugan wasn't however and was egging the sailor to stand up. Begging him, morelike. But Roy wasn't hearing any of it. He was too focused on drowning this sailor in dirt.

Roy was fighting a struggling fight with the man. Seconds passed as he held him in place, and those seconds turned into a full minute as the sailor struggled and fought to force him off, but Roy was dead set on staying put. Any swing his way was easily dodged and punished, and it looked as if Roy was gonna win this fight.

"I'm gonna kill you if you keep fighting, give up!" Roy leaned into the man, threatening as loud as he could for everyone to hear. The cheers got even more intense when that was said, and the sailor's friends began to go into a panic.

"Shit, don't kill him! Please!" One had shouted, running to Roy to pull him off. He wrapped his arms around the thief's shoulders and tugged at him hard, trying to drag him off the suffocating sailor. "He's…. He's just a goddamn idiot! Please!"

"Get off me!" Roy shrugged him off, shoving him to the dirt below before returning his attention to the sailor at his mercy. But this moment of distraction was all he needed.

With his remaining strength, the sailor bucked him off. Roy fell backwards, completely surprised, and looked on as the sailor staggered slowly to his feat. He was coughing up dirt, staring at Roy with a horrified expression as he bent over in a gagging, breathing fit.

"An-And-Andraste's tits…." The sailor gagged, dirt dripping out of his mouth as if he were chewing on it for fun. A friend of his ran to his aid, taking an arm and draping over his shoulder to help him balance himself. "You-You…..You were gonna kill me!"

"...And I woulda done it five times over!" Roy commented as he stood himself up. Much to the dissatisfaction of the trio of sailors. The one he nearly killed looked up at him, horrified by the words he just uttered.

"You crazy bastard!" He shouted at him, steadily gagging more and more for precious air.

"Let me through, let me through!" Someone shouted, pushing their way through the crowd that had gathered around the fighting duo. The sailors parted as they realized who it was that was pushing through them, not wanting to get involved any further than they already had.

It was a guard, a woman in full uniform, minus the helmet, with orange hair and a red headband shoving her way through everyone. Men and women all began to back away as she looked over the scene, and she noted the bruised, gagging man before her before anything else.

"What's going on here?!" She demanded, her voice heavy with authority and laden with strength. "Well?!"

The sailors were quick to point out Roy as the perpetrator, pointing fingers and yelling things like"This bastard assaulted our friend just now! He's crazy, guard!" and "He tried to kill my best mate, guardlady!".

Roy blinked and quickly darted his eyes between the guard and the sailors. He knew the guard would arrest him if he didn't have a solid defense for himself and he shook his head, raising his hands up in his own defense.

"Now now, that ain't true ma'am. I was just going for a nice, relaxing stroll when the feller with the bald head attacked me. I was mindin' my own business 'fore then." He defended himself, remaining calm and collected under the prospects of visiting the dungeon.

_Again…_

The sailors blinked and began to call him out even worse than before. Pointing. Shouting. They raised their voices loud, and the guard looked at them with an annoyed glare on her face. Roy stayed quiet and calm as their accusations fell upon him, loud and belligerent. He saw no reason to stoop to their level, and Roy knew authority are more willing to believe the calm and collected one compared to the aggressive and bellicose one. The guard was finding their actions childish and, with a quick glance over to Roy, shared in the blank expression he had. Roy noted her behavior and a slight grin burrowed at the corners of his lips.

He believed the guard was falling over to his side.

But his grin faltered fast when someone else had spoken out against him.

"He's lying, guardswoman!" Another voice called out quite suddenly. The sailors hushed up and everyone looked to the source. It was Dugan calling out from behind the stand, tending to his bleeding and pained father. "That goddamn prick wrecked our stall and assaulted my father over some bleedin' money!"

Roy scoffed and looked between the sailors and the young Dugan, who was comforting his wounded father as he lay there trying to wait out the pain.

"I ain't never seen that boy or his father before in my life, ma'am." Roy defended himself with a dull voice. The guard looked at him, then at Dugan with a quizzical eye.

"He's lying! He's a liar! Look at his belt! The pouch!" Dugan pointed at him, extending his arm as far as the young man could to single him out to the woman. "He extorted that from us! Check it! It has a sovereign and some silver in it, I guarantee it!"

The guardswoman cast her eyes on the pouch, and then looked once more at the sailors standing beside her. They nodded at her to indulge the young man and, exhaling a deep, annoyed breath, she took a slow and cautious step forward.

"Well. Let's have it then." The guard slowly said to Roy, holding out her hand to receive the pouch. "Let's confirm the story."

Roy shook his head and backed away, quickly understanding he was losing control of the room. If he gave the pouch over to the guardswoman and she saw it contained exactly what Dugan claimed, he'd have nothing to defend himself with anymore. Not to mention the fact he had two nay-sayers running against him. He just put his hands up and backed away slowly, and the guard closed the distance he put in just the same. She didn't want him to slink away like he was trying to.

"This is a goddamn shakedown!" Roy declared openly, refusing to take part in this any further. "Arrest those fools! They're the ones who attacked me!" He pointed the sailors out, specifically the bald one. They glared at him, yelling retorts and accusations right back at him, but the guardswoman wasn't having any of it and she spoke again, this time much more demandingly.

"Ser. I just want to see what's in your pouch. Let me see it."

Roy shook his head again, defying the guards wishes and took a great step back as he gave his best attempt at putting distance between him and her. But each step he took only gave the guard further determination and conviction. Her look worsened, and eventually it got to the point she let her hand drift slowly to the hilt of her sword.

"Ser." She demanded sternly, taking a firm stance in case Roy tried to run. "I demand you hand over what you've stolen. Don't make me repeat myself again."

Roy gulped, knowing the guard was against him now. He had no choice, he couldn't get arrested. Not now. Not today. Not ever. Not again. He eyed the road over his shoulder, and he knew his only chance was to make a break for it.

So that's what he did. Without further hesitation or thought, he turned about on his heels and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Hey! Stop! Now!" The guard called out to him, unsheathing her sword and giving chase.

She was in hot pursuit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised and proof read by a good friend who goes by the name Frozen Foe.


	5. Chapter 5 - Luck of The Draw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took longer than usual. That's a trend that's going to continue from here forward as I am focused otherwise on my job and my modding team for New Vegas and (soon) Skyrim. I will publish new chapters on an orderly basis though, and we shouldn't have to wait longer than two weeks for a new one. If it does take longer than that, then something in my life has either gone wrong or taken priority. Don't fret, this story isn't going anywhere regardless. Nowhere except forward. :D
> 
> Without further adieu, enjoy the chapter!

It was quite cozy in the hideout this evening.

Everybody was present, save for Filgins. He just wanted to be alone and eat in peace. The headache was burning like lava in his mind, and it was painful for him to be around anything that had any potential of being loud.

Roy was sitting there, next to Elroy and Eleana, eating Menien's stewed nug with a very satisfied look on his face. Menien was with them by the door, doing his job while eating at the same time.

Merrill was sitting alone on the floor, waiting for her turn. She hadn't eaten all day, much to Dirhael's growing disgust as he had told them to keep her fed. Her stomach was grumbling, loud as can be. Every second that passed Roy would hear it, and sometimes would cast a glance at her expecting her to keep her stomach silent. She would just look at him and frown, annoyed that she hadn't eaten yet.

One thing would continuously tug at the edges of Roy's mind however. That being the fact that Merrill seemed unconcerned for the current situation she found herself in.

Roy shrugged it off though, not wanting this good night to be ruined by his own ridiculous thoughts.

Most everyone was grouped together, eating and talking. Dirhael was sitting alone at the far end of the room, however. Alone. He didn't partake in the supper for the night as he was busy counting out the coins from Roy's job. He was very pleased with the take the man had managed, and even more so with the inclusion of a sovereign. He, as Roy expected, took it for himself. But he was true to his word about paying him and was busy counting out Roy's take - including coin from Dirhael's own pockets.

Roy has never been so proud of himself before. Proud, and surprised.

Even Eleana was impressed with his handiwork, having heard the story of how he beat down a merchant then tussled with a sailor and won with nary a scratch, even as a guard investigated the scene and went after him with the intention of bringing him to the dungeon.

"How did you manage to escape, Roy?" Eleana had asked, catching Menien, Elroy, and Dirhael's attention. Merrill glanced at Roy as well as the question hung in the air, but she didn't make herself known.

Roy, swallowing what food he had in his mouth at the time, set his bowl down in his lap and chuckled a response before recounting the story, beginning where the guard intervened in the tussle.

He explained how the guard was fast, almost as fast as him despite the armor she was wearing. She appeared dead-set on bringing him in, and he didn't want any of it. He had spent a brief period in the dungeon before, after all. He had long ago decided he wasn't going back.

He tried to lose her by ducking between buildings and fleeing further into Lowtown using the alleys as cover, but she remained hot on his heels, calling other guards to her aid. Pretty soon, he had a team of guards tailing him. He managed to lose two of them by ducking in an alley by The Hanged Man, but the original guard and one other guard remained.

At one point they had caught him and tackled him, and he explained how he struggled and fought the two as they tried to bind his hands. He knocked his original pursuer on her ass with a well placed right hook and wriggled the other guard off of him before vanishing into the connecting alleys while they sat in the dirt. Dazed, confused, and nursing their pain.

"It was exhilarating." Roy admitted with a sly smirk, although he paused as he remembered the very fact that they almost caught him. "Well, at least until they caught me. Then I was admittedly scared. Shouting everything in the goddamn book: Bitch. Cunt. Whore. Ass."

Menien and Elroy shared a laugh together, finding Roy's predicament a hilarious antic. Roy smiled back at them, fighting the urge to join them in their laughter while Dirhael was watching.

"Y'all think it's funny. I almost got sent to the dungeon, guys." Roy said to the laughing duo, still maintaining a smile.

"Yes. And then I woulda had to send someone to get you out AND collect what you lost. More time to be wasted." Dirhael piped up at his little table, turning away from the scene with a slight frown tugging at on his cheeks. He slowly picked up a coin from the table and examined it for a moment, bringing it close to view before huffing and tossing it back to the tabletop, looking back at Roy before it even landed. "I'd probably had sent Eleana to sneak you out or…. Something."

"Why Eleana?" Menien asked, half joking half serious. The woman only scoffed at the question and set her bowl down, dusting herself off and summoning up as blue blooded a voice as she could manage.  
"Because I'm the only one of you grizzled thugs that could pass for a lady of leisure." She answered, holding her head high and maintaining her snobby tone as perfectly as she could. Roy even admitted to himself that she was good at this. "You no good peasants really ought to bathe for once."

"Bah, fuck you Eleana." Elroy snarked. This brought a smile to Eleana as she giggled wholeheartedly. "We love our stink. It's manly."

"Elroy." Eleana stopped herself with a heavy breath and a semi-serious look on her pleasant face. "If your conduct passes for manly nowadays, I think I'll strive for someone less gallant...if you get my meaning."

Menien burst out laughing, while Elroy sank in his seat, defeated and embarrassed by Eleana's words. Roy laughed too as he understood the meaning behind her words, and Eleana joined in while the man just sat there and took it all in. He huffed and grumbled for a moment before resuming his meal, trying to remain indifferent to the cackling all around him.

But one person interrupted the laughter and the fun. One person spoke up, and caused everyone to frown and look at her with displeasure in their burning glares.

"I don't get it." Merrill piped up, looking around for a meaning to Eleana's words.

Everyone looked at her, and even Dirhael paused his money counting to look at her, just as annoyed as everyone else. Eleana scoffed and returned to her food, uninterested enough in the captive to ignore her. Roy wasn't the same, though, and stood up from his seat.

"Shut it, little elf." Roy demanded as he advanced on her, raising his voice all the while. The elf just sighed and cut her eyes in a different direction, either unwilling or incapable of saying something back. Roy smirked and sat back down next to Eleana.

For a while after that everyone remained silent, eating their supper and shifting away as best they could from the interruption of their fun and jokes. Merrill herself seemed to regret speaking up and ruining the fun they were having, and tried her best to not let her eyes land on any of her captors.

Then soon enough, they all drifted away. Elroy left to go drinking, Menien returned to his guard duty, and Eleana went upstairs with Dirhael to discuss the upcoming meeting with the Tevinters and how they were going to handle the exchange. Before she left, she tapped Roy on the shoulder and gave him her congratulations on a job well done. Told him she was glad he eluded the guards sticky fingers, and that she would see to it that his face was forgotten by this time tomorrow.

She, when pretending to be a noble in Hightown, had some clout. She could easily bribe the right people to take down the wanted posters and a little coin did wonders to make a guard forget faces.

Roy smiled. Eleana was good to him, even when he didn't deserve it. She was a great friend, and he silently made a note to pay her back for her help when he was able.

Dirhael had given him his take from the job. The payment amounted to a total of fifty silver and twenty five copper. Roy had grinned greedily at the coin he was given, and for once was cordial with Dirhael. Such politeness even brought a smile to the elf's face, and he joined Eleana on her praise before going upstairs with the woman.

Then, Roy was left alone with Merrill. It was Menien's turn to watch her tonight, and Eleana's turn to watch the door. But neither of them were present to take on their respective roles. Roy had no choice but to feed the mage himself, and so he did. He took what was left of the pot and put it in his empty bowl before kneeling next to her, bading her to eat up as " _That's what Dirhael wants._ "

The elf didn't argue, but was confused when he took a spoon and held it up for her to take a bite.

"Aren't ya going to untie me so I can eat?"

Roy scoffed and shook his head, chuckling at the elf's total apparent cluelessness.

"Maker no." He put it plainly. "I set you free, and you set my pants on fire and make a break for it. I don't fucking think so, mage. Just eat what I give you so we can be done with this."

Merrill looked up at him with surprise, but hesitantly accepted his choice. Her stomach was rumbling loudly now, and the pang of hunger was bearing down on her. She knew she didn't have much of a choice, and so lurched forward to take a sip of the stew.

They didn't speak to one another. Merrill would occasionally glance up at him, but Roy would frown whenever their eyes met. This frown was enough to keep her hesitant, and she would think twice before looking him in the eye.

As she ate, some of it would inevitably drip upon her gown, leaving distasteful stains upon her dark green gown. She made an unpleasant whimper as she noticed this, but left it be as she knew Roy would have nothing to do with her complaining. Roy had noticed the drips, but didn't care enough to hold the bowl under the spoon. Just a few days and he wouldn't have to do this anymore anyways.

Eventually, Merrill stopped eating and grunted as she looked down at her waistline. She was beginning to feel a sensation that would no doubt displease the man who was feeding her, and she opted to keep silent for a moment and refused to take another bite. Roy looked at her, confused yet haughtily annoyed with this interruption.

" _Fenehdis_ …." Merrill mumbled, moving her bound hands to cover her lap.

"What was that?" Roy asked, not understanding her actions nor her mumbling. The elf looked up at him, as if to speak yet she held her tongue a moment. The rumbling in her waist got worse the longer she waited, however, and she quickly informed her needs to the man.

"I….er…." She stammered, embarrassed to even say it aloud. "...have to pee."

Roy stopped himself and lowered the bowl in his hands. Blinkinkg, he wasn't sure if he had heard that right.

"What?" Roy deadpanned.

"I need to pee…." Merrill repeated herself, much to the man's surprise and disgust. He inched away, voicing his displeasure at this turn of events.

"Maker's word!" Roy raised his voice, causing the elf to wince at the sudden displeasure. "What more of a bother can you be, little elf?" Roy grumbled aloud, setting the remaining stew aside as he had decided she was done eating. He looked at her a moment, and noted the discomfort she was in. He couldn't help but wonder how much drink whoever was watching her earlier allowed her to have.

Now, their kindness put him in a disgusting position.

His thoughts were harboring unpleasantness. " _Fucking great. Thanks, asshole._ "

He shook his head, and informed her to just go where she sat. The whole building was a mess to Roy anyways. Elroy pissed on the wall before, so Roy figured someone else could clean this up too.

But Merrill, with a disgusted look plastered on her face, refused to do just that. She refused to go all over herself and said she "Would rather be in pain than wallow in my own filth.".

Roy, annoyed at the sudden defiance, just threw his hands in the air and countered her with "I guess you're gonna be in pain then, little elf! You've got no choice: Piss yourself or hold it until someone with a single care arrives! Your goddamn choice!"

The elf sighed and sat back on her spot in the floor, settling back onto the wall behind while she cradled her hands over her waist. Roy just sat down in a seat nearby and rubbed his head, annoyed that he had to raise his voice after such a fun and climatic day. The intensity of his anger at this captive knew no bounds, and for a moment he cursed Dirhael for accepting this job. Slavery was profitable, but annoying at the same time. Having to deal with the slave's every need: Food, water, waste. Roy wanted to voice his displeasure with Dirhael about all of this, but ultimately relented.

Dirhael wasn't someone to be angered. He may've allowed Roy's discontent in the past but voicing against his decisions was grounds to make him angry. No one in the gang wanted to see him angry.

The rumbling was loud, and Roy stared at the source. It was Merrill alright. Trying to make herself feel better by massaging her lower stomach. The tightness of the ropes made it hard, but she managed just well enough. Her eyes were vestiges that sold her pain immediately, and she looked to be in extreme discomfort. She was trying her best not to wince in front of him, or even to make noise to bother him. But her bladder was doing that job well enough, and to a grand extent that Roy found annoyance with this.

But as he stared at her for a moment longer, he then sighed. His eyes lowered themselves to the ground, and suddenly he thought of what Dirhael would do if he found out Roy had left their " _guest_ " to piss herself on the dirty, dirty floor. She wouldn't just stink, but she'd be dirty. The Tevinters want a healthy slave. Not a sick, dirty one.

Roy's eyes widened, and he knew Dirhael would have a big fit about it and likely send Roy on some dangerous job he made up to just to teach the man a lesson. Roy's had that happen before, and he was nearly arrested by the city guards for it. If he could avoid it again, he would. Dirhael was not a man to be crossed.

He didn't need any more encouragement than that.

With a simple click of his tongue and a quick, sharp inhale, he spoke to her in a much calmer tone than before, catching her by surprise as she simply stared up at him, eyes wide.

"Alright." Roy said as he stood up, catching the elf's attention as Roy broke the somewhat steady silence between the two. "I'll get you something to go in. Just make it quick."

The elf blinked, and watched him disappear into the basement. He was gone for several moments, just long enough for her to wonder what exactly gave him a change of heart. When he returned, he held in both hands a wooden bucket. Grasping it by the handles on the sides, he brought it over to her and set it down right next to her. Then inched away, expectantly.

She looked at it, and then shot her eyes up to him.

"It's the best I can do. Use it or don't, I don't give a shit. I'd just rather not smell piss while I'm here."

She looked back at it, and slowly nodded at his offer. She looked very embarrassed from this whole situation, but she had no choice really. She knew she was bound, and they had no way of knowing when she had to go unless she told them such. She sat upwards, thanking the thief with an awkward smile.

"It probably doesn't mean much, but… Thank you." She offered him. Roy shook his head and backed away further, finding himself uneasy with what he just did but accepting it nonetheless. It may've been a kindness to her, but to him? It was nothing more than a simple honorable gesture.

Or, at least, a gesture to keep him from getting in trouble with an elf who was never to be crossed. Ever.

"You're right. It doesn't mean much." He replied as he turned his back on her. He didn't want to disgust himself by watching her relieve herself, and it was likely she didn't want to be watched in the first place. He stepped towards the basement as she stammered to her feet, hunched and positioning the bucket under herself. She watched as he moved away, loitering patiently until he was out of sight to lift her gown."Just piss and get it over with, little elf. I'll be right around the corner. Make it quick."

With that said, he ducked out of sight and waited for her to finish her disgusting business. He took a seat on the stairs, fiddling with his own dirty nails as he waited. At first, he didn't hear anything. Just the sounds of Eleana and Dirhael speaking rather loudly up above and the snoring of Filgins down below. He didn't think anything of it, but a thought did slowly brew and boil in his mind as he dug under his nails - dissatisfied with the dirt that was imprinting itself underneath.

Dirhael had found this job, and he had found this elf. He made the rules regarding her stay. But he didn't say anything about having to deal with her waste though. Disgusted, Roy threw a fist on his knee and silently cursed his boss.

"Goddamn Dirhael…."

* * *

It was a late morning for Roy. He awoke in the near utter darkness of the basement in nothing but his cotton britches and a single boot. His only light source being a nearby lit lantern, burning as brightly as it could to battle the encroaching dark all around. Roy attempted to sit up, grumbling and blinking as he tried to manage his bearings.

He was alone. No snoring echoed around the room, no figures lay in their respective cots. No equipment lay underneath by their belongings. Everyone was gone, and Roy was all alone. He felt a surge running up his throat, and he devolved into a coughing fit, standing up and letting it all out as he glanced around his little area of the basement he called home.

When his painful hacking had subsided, he shot his eyes around for his equipment and wasted no time in getting ready for the day. He slid on his other boot, followed by the splintmail and his sword before stumbling upstairs, dazed and groggy. He reached the top, and was surprised to see everyone there.

Waiting for him.

"Look who's up." Eleana said, standing by the fireplace with her arms crossed with an annoyed glance in his direction.

Roy grunted a response before rubbing his eyes and looking around. Everyone had their eyes on him, including the captive. Dirhael was nowhere to be seen, however. Whatever was going on wasn't important enough for him to grace them with his presence, it seems. Menien was sitting by Elroy, playing a card game. Filgins was there, casting angry glances towards the captive whenever he could. The captive would notice and on occasion smile at him. Roy's vision was somewhat blurry with his awakening and he could barely stand up straight, and this was made apparent to everyone in the room. They all just shook their heads as Eleana stepped forward.

"We've been waiting for you, Roy. We have to decide who's gonna watch the captive."

Roy grunted again, opting to just take a knee where he stood. The only open seat in the room was at a table beyond Menien and Elroy, and it felt to Roy like too much a distance to walk. He lazily shook his head, not wanting to be a part of the decision.

Eleana noticed and informed the groggy thief that he had to do his part like everyone else. Roy didn't do much to fight her words as she was right. He knew it, he just didn't want to deal with the elf any longer than he had to.

"We gathered some sticks and we're gonna pull them… Shortest stick loses." Eleana explained, pulling a number of sticks from her pockets. They were small sticks, more like twigs. But the length of each one varied well enough it could be differentiated. Eleana stopped herself and cast a glance to Filgins, who was watching her closely. "Filgins is excluded from this since it's his turn to watch the door." She added, watching as Filgins smiled at her words.

"Damn right. The less I have to deal with that sodding elf, the better." He exclaimed, standing up and taking a walk out the front door all while grumbling and muttering obscenities about Merrill to himself. "Goddamn elves….goddamn mages….shoulda just turned her in to the sodding templars….no one listens to….sodding idiots….."

" _He really hates Merrill, it seems._ " Roy thought up, and it wasn't much of a surprise to him. She did send him headfirst into a fireplace, after all.

Everyone watched as he departed, then Eleana spoke up, inviting everyone to pull a twig. Roy complied, albeit very unwillingly. He staggered upwards as everyone stood up from their seats and pulled a twig each. Quickly, everyone smiled as they looked at the twig in their respective grasp, all save for Roy. They all looked at him as he glanced down at the stick in his palms, and he silently muttered a curse that the Maker himself would be ashamed to hear.

"Hah, Roy!" Elroy laughed. "You got the joooob…" He singed, dropping the stick and pointing at the young thief with an evil grin. Roy just looked at him, and if looks could kill, Elroy would be a dead man right about now.

Eleana chuckled as well, enjoying the situation as it continually dawned on Roy. Menien himself was indifferent for he held no ill-will against the captive, and held nothing against mages in particular. He just saw this as another job and nothing more. It didn't really matter to him who watched her, he just knew it had to be done.

Roy was growing agitated as he stared at the twig he pulled, looking at its length with frustration and anger.

"Why me?" Roy called out, his voice betraying the agitation and a good amount of spite towards his comrades. It was not lost on them his mood, and they took even more joy in that fact.

"'Cos you pulled the shortest stick, friend." Elroy laughed, standing up from his seat and subtly declaring the game with Menien over. Menien just looked up at him, displeased and unamused but didn't say a word. "And it's good for me too, I got stuff I wanna do today."

"I got things I want to do as well, god-fucking-dammit!" Roy announced aloud. His displeasure continued to amuse the trio in the room, all but Merrill."I don't want to spend it watching this bleedin' elf!"

"Like what?" Eleana stepped forward with crossed arms and a silly smile. "Drinking away the coin you earned last night?"

Merrill just cast her eyes between Roy and the others, opting not to get involved. She knew she had no place to say anything, and this Roy fellow already didn't see any good in her.

He had made that abundantly clear in the past two days she's known him.

Saying something would only just anger an already stirred bull.

It was interesting to her, however, to see how this gang solved their problems when the leader wasn't present.

"Roy." Menien stood up from his chair, stretching and continuing to give Elroy a nasty look. "You're the one who came up with this system, it's only fair you play by the rules you set forth."

Eleana glanced down at the captive and smirked, catching Merril's inquisitive eye as she did so.

"She won't give you any trouble anyways, Roy. It's only for eight hours as well. Elroy, having pulled the second shortest, will return to relieve you at the end of your shift." Eleana added to the fire. Roy still wasn't pleased, but he knew Menien was right. They adopted this way under his advice, and if he refused to follow the rules he made then he was just as unreliable as Dirhael was to him.

He stepped back, and slowly sunk. Roy sighed, and cursed the elf's existence under his breath.

"What…..what in the Void are you guys going to do all day?" He asked, accepting his defeat.

Eleana just chuckled, uncrossing her arms as she spoke. "Who knows? It beats being cramped up in here all day."

"Here here." Elroy agreed. "I'm gonna peruse the markets, maybe find something interesting. Or…. Maker, I don't really know to be honest." Elroy shrugged, looking to Menien for any ideas. Menien just remained silent, still annoyed at the man for shirking their game. "I'm of a mind with Eleana, really."

"Well thanks for leaving me here, asshole."

"Get over it on your own time, Roy." Menien finally added to the situation. "I myself am not going to waste my day dallying about the city. I'd rather spend it in silent contemplation in the chantry."

The group just paused and looked at him. Hearing those words come out of his mouth was always a surprise, even when it shouldn't have been. Menien was perhaps the most level headed and intelligent of the group. Nothing he said should come as a surprise.

But it usually did regardless.

"Always the academic aren't you, Menien?" Roy asked, replacing Elroy at his seat. He looked up at the man, a risen brow and a curious look. Menien only smiled underneath his black beard as he backed away, following Elroy out of the building.

"You forget. Not all of us came from the bottom rungs of life, Roy." He said on his departure. He stopped himself at the door and cast a sideways glance to the man, his smile faltering as he watched the young thief peruse the cards on the table he once occupied. "Some of us didn't choose this life out of necessity."

With that said, he left the building. Leaving Eleana, Merrill, and Roy alone.

Eleana followed not long after, leaving Roy with a simple "Take care." before departing the hideout. What she was going to do today would no doubt be leagues better than what was in store for him.

He was alone with the captive once again.

Roy glanced at Merrill, and she met his gaze briefly before casting her watchful eye to the binding on her hands. She seemed unconcerned for the current status quo and simply just sat there. Avoiding any words with the thief.

Roy accepted her reticence, as he didn't want to deal with a talkative captive, nor did he exactly want to be stuck here watching her. But he did propose the system in how they chose who guarded her. As much as it backfired on him, he had to go with it. It was only fair.

For the first few hours he just sat there, arranging the cards to form different shapes on the table for his own amusement. Different shapes of different sizes, and eventually he started using different suites exclusively for different builds. At some point he got bored doing this and began building a pyramid out of the cards. Try as he might, however, it continued to collapse on him whenever he even made a smidgeon of progress.

Sometimes the elf would giggle when his efforts fell apart - quite literally - and Roy would look at her with an annoyed glare. She would then cease her snickering and look away, either unable or unwilling to meet his gaze.

But the more he failed, the more determined he became. The minutes passed slowly into an hour, and eventually Dirhael made an appearance. His sudden voice startled Roy to a great deal and caused him to flinch. The pyramid collapsed once again as a result, and the young thief looked at the mess before him before letting out an aggravated sigh of frustration.

"Thanks." He said, slinking back in his seat as the elven thief snickered away at his troubles.

"That was a nice pyramid, Roy." Dirhael muttered into his snickers, approaching Roy from the stairs with a cocky smile on his face. "Real nice, don't suppose I could do a better job than you really."

Roy simply grunted his response, waving him off as he tried easing his own frustration to a simmer. Dirhael simply smiled, stepping forward and casting a glance to Merrill as he approached the young thief.

"I see you've got captive duty." Dirhael noted.

"Mmmhmm." Roy clasped his hands together in his lap, raising his eyes from the mess of cards to Dirhael's slow approach. "Yeah, I get to stay here and watch a fetid mage while everyone else gets to leave the dankness of Darktown for the light of the city above. Hurrah…" Roy faked a cheer with a weak attitude. He couldn't be anymore obvious with his discontent, and this only served to brighten Dirhael's cocky mood considerably.

Merrill at first was amused, but when she heard the words " _fetid mage_ ", her mood dampened enough to give way to a frown on her tattooed face. She tried to hide her displeasure, but it was apparent. Neither of the two noticed though, and it was possibly for the best.

"Yes, I suppose you have a right to be displeased." Dirhael admitted, lowering his head and agreeing with his words to a degree. He nodded his head, adding: "But Darktown has a…. Well…. A certain quality that I, for one, really wouldn't trade for the world."

Roy squinted at him, surprised that Dirhael had felt a fondness for the dark reaches of Darktown.

" _Spend enough time anywhere and you'll come to enjoy it, I suppose._ "

Dirhael then turned away, sauntering away from the two without so much as a word. Roy and Merrill watched him until he reached the door. Dirhael then stopped himself and looked back at Roy. His grin obvious and bright. It taunted Roy every second it stood stalwart, and Roy sneered at the man before going back to randomizing his card game.

"Enjoy your guard duty. I'm going to scout the location for our…." He paused and looked at Merrill, cautious to not alert her to her upcoming fate. "For our….pending meeting."

Roy nodded, not even looking up at the elf, and gathered the cards before him into a pile. Dirhael left, the door shut behind him. Creaking all the way and disturbing the young thief to no end. He paused, raising his eyes to watch the door until it shut completely.

With Dirhael and the gang gone - save for Filgins - Roy and Merrill were only ones remaining inside Dirhael's Folly. Filgins definitely wouldn't be up for conversation, he would rather Roy sit in quiet isolation with the elf he despised so much. Roy sighed, splitting the deck in his hands into two and dealing himself a pair of cards.

The game was nonexistent, only serving to keep him entertained for there was nothing else in the room to keep him occupied.

The only person he could talk to was the captive, but she wasn't allowed to speak unless spoken to.

Even then, that was **IF** someone in the gang was willing to speak to her **AND** without the intention of getting friendly.

But Roy would sometimes, during his random games throughout the hours, shift his eyes to her. Through the few days she's been here he had noticed a few things about her. Things that took him by surprise.

One thing that struck him odd was her total and complete disregard for the situation at hand.

She snickered when something amusing occurred, she voiced her confusion when something she didn't understand occurred - which seemed to be very often - and she didn't once ask for release. At least not after the first few hours.

She would just sit there and watch everyone with an indifferent stare, abiding by the rules set forth by Dirhael where possible and remaining acquiescent to the demands and hateful remarks by the other gang members.

When Roy would call her an apostate or something else demeaning, she would look at him but do nothing more. She wouldn't say anything. She would simply just look insulted and then continue to act like she was minding her own business.

When it was time to eat, someone would feed her at the end of the meal and she would always thank whoever fed her. With a smile. With genuine kindness.

It struck him odd to no clear end.

Did she not realize the situation she was in?

Did she not realize the danger she was caught up in?

In the times past they had kidnapped people and sold them into slavery. Elves and humans both. Everyday they would beg for kindness and release, and everyday they would annoy Roy and the others with constant questions such as " _What are you going to do with me?_ " or " _Why am I here? Why won't you tell me?!_ ". Everyday, they would delve into a panic.

But not this one.

She would sometimes play with her bindings, whistle when Menien was watching her - as Menien didn't exactly care if she made noise - and smile at the passing of whoever happened to be nearby.

Eleana had noted this last night before most everyone turned in.

Everyone was confused with this elf's conduct as much as Roy was.

Roy just didn't understand.

Was she simply unaware of the danger she was truly in?

Roy suddenly decided to stop his game and turned towards her, sliding in his seat to the very edge as he leaned forward, arms on his knees and a squint in his eyes. Merrill looked up at him, noting his sudden interest in her.

She rose her brows as his stare lingered on, and for a moment she felt a tad uncomfortable with his attention. But she couldn't fight it and simply remained as was.

"Is there….something ya need?" She slowly questioned, unsure if the attention she was receiving was positive or if it held negative connotations.

Roy remained silent when the question was uttered, if only for a moment. Her tone suggested this was a true question, and he shook his head as her innocence in this situation became clearer by the second. He then crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat as he gave the elf his answer.

"Trying to figure you out, little elf."

Her eyebrows couldn't rise any higher.

"What exactly do ya mean?" She asked, shifting her weight to get more comfortable on the stone she was sitting on. "Figure me out? I'm an elf….. And a mage…. Nothing really special if I'm being honest."

Roy shook his head again. "No, no. Not like that." He waved his hands around, dismissing her rebuttal with some level of annoyance. "I mean…. Shit… How do I put this for you to understand?"

That gave Merrill pause for a moment, and she cocked her head at his words. A small frown was born.

"Understand?" She repeated. "You can just give it to me straight, y'know? I'm not an idiot."

"Yeah well that's debatable." Roy muttered under his breath, but loud enough for the elf to hear. She scoffed as a result but didn't stoke the fire further and simply remained quiet.

Correcting her head, she leaned against the wall behind her and stretched her legs outward towards the thief. He cut a glance at them, the dirt and dust that was caking her thin legs was as plain as day. When she was brought in, they were quite clean in contrast. It seems a stint in this place is enough to dark even the palest of skin.

Not that she was very pale. Roy was easily paler than her.

"Listen, Merrill." Roy continued, acting as if he didn't insult her previously. He clutched his hands together and brought them to his chin, pressing a lone finger to the small hairs under his lips. "This isn't the first time we've….kidnapped someone, y'see?"

"Obviously." She replied, bringing her hands to the light to show off her bindings, bindings that were equally bound with a short length of rope to the metal stake next to her legs. "You were prepared."

"Yes." Roy said. "But that's not the point. What my point is is that our previous….prisoners….always ran their mouths." Roy began, peaking Merrill's interest.

"Oh yeah?" Merrill hummed, resting her head on her hands. She shifted around, getting as comfortable as she could manage.

"Yeah. Some were angry, threatened us nonstop with violence and acts of….indecency" Roy explained slowly, resting his clasped hands on his lap and casting a glance to the stone floor on the last word. He lingered his gaze for a moment, remembering some of the stuff previous captives had threatened. "But others were more forgiving in their words. If that makes any sense. They….begged. Begged for freedom. Asked us why we wanted them. Prayed to the Maker for salvation. But you? You're different. You haven't once threatened us nor have you begged once for your freedom." He gave a brief pause, waiting for a response from the bound mage.

Merrill didn't reply, instead she watched the thief as he explained the past to her. She didn't act surprised nor did she really seem to be. She was interested, however, to see where Roy was taking this. Roy himself noted her reticence, and opted to continue.

"So that brings me to this:" Roy exhaled, leaning towards the elf and dropping his hands down by his knees. He squinted, watching the elf for any answer to his query. "Why are you so…." He paused, tapping his chin with a lone finger as he thought up the rest of his question. "I don't know…Compliant?"

Roy watched as she sat there. She was silent. Nothing but a small quiver in her brow as the question echoed in her head. It was as rudimentary as questions get, but Roy could see she was seriously processing the query. As the seconds dragged on, a small smile sprouted upon her lips, and she lifted her head from her hands as she thought of a way to respond.

"Well?"

The elf chuckled and gave a light sigh, watching the thief with a set of curious eyes.

"Is it really that important?" She asked, maintaining the smile that dominated her lips. It was oddly calming to Roy, and his tone sank a little as a result as well as his composure.

"I just find it weird, is all. You've been here two days and not once have you threatened us or begged for your life. You're truly an odd one, little elf."

She lowered her head, hiding her face from the thief and opting to keep her eyes on the floor before her. Roy blinked, and repositioned himself in his seat when the elf responded with "I get that alot."

She cleared her throat and gave Roy a brief moment of pause as she looked back up at him, unabashed. Then she opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, as if thinking carefully on her next choice of words. With a small knowing smile, she spoke softly to the man; she surprised him to no end with the lack of trepidation on her words.

"I don't know, Mr. Roy." She hummed softly. "Maybe I am just a confident little elf. Confident in myself and others, perhaps."

Roy blinked, and questioned her on what she meant.

"Confident? Confident how? In who?"

The elf giggled at his confusion, watching him and thinking about how to reply properly. She thought about it for a good moment, and she opted to not worry him with the details. Roy just rose his brows, confused with every word she calmly let out.

"Don't worry your little head about it. It will all be sorted out soon, this whole messy….err….mess." She said, with truth dripping out of her mouth with each word. Truth that she saw, at the very least. "Someone may get hurt, though."

Roy sat in sheer confusion for a moment, eyeing the young elf with narrowed eyes. He didn't understand what she meant and thinking about it only served to confuse him more. His ear twitched as the anxiety from the confusion burned a hole in him. He scratched his ear gently, and replayed her words in his head another time. No matter how hard he thought about it, he unfortunately came no closer to an understanding.

He simply yawned, stemming from the late night he had last night, and spoke confused words.

"What are going on about now, little elf?" He asked, leaning back in his seat as he began to find himself growing increasingly uninterested in speaking to her anymore. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be fraternising with her anyways but he was curious.

Very curious.

She just shrugged and shifted in place in a continued effort to get comfortable, or at least as comfortable as one can get on a stone floor. Every movement was awkward, and Roy just grumbled as her confusing statements dawned on him. She was done talking, and would no more trouble him with her somewhat cryptic musings. He sneered at her before deciding to turn away from her, suddenly thinking on what game he could play next even if the cards he had were narrow in scope. Wicked Grace sounded like a fun idea, but it needed at least two players.

He wasn't about to ask the elf, either.

So instead he sat there, bored, annoyed with the silence the elf had given him, and confused on her words and actions. She was complacent even though her situation was dire, and the gang knew something was wrong. But Dirhael wasn't going to question it if it made everyone's job easier. What Dirhael did, the gang would do.

All except for Roy, who didn't value the elf's word anymore than he valued a mage's abilities.

Considering the present company he had, that was two-fold.

But the elf was no less a mystery to him. Normally he wouldn't have wasted breath with a captive, but her behavior for her situation was just enough to get him to mince words. He just hoped Dirhael wouldn't find out, lest he reprimand Roy for getting friendly with the goods. Reprimand being a polite word for the job Dirhael would send him on as punishment.

He sighed and decidedly ignored Merrill for a time further, splitting the deck he had and ready another game of Maker knows what.

All he could do now was wait out his eight hours.

Then he would hit The Hanged Man.

Where, no doubt, the troubles and annoyances of this job would leave him.

And he could get drunk as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proof read by a good friend who goes by the name Frozen Foe.


	6. Chapter 6 - A Meeting Between Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I feel like I should say real quick that the story is following my personal worldstate of Dragon Age. So my choices from Origins, 2, and eventually Inquisition will appear in this story from time to time.
> 
> That's all I have to say, enjoy the chapter.

The Hanged Man was as it always was.

A place for the downcast to drown their sorrows - sorrows being something everyone had in this city of chains.

A place for the off-duty to have fun and drink away the pay they had earned throughout the day of chasing criminals and keeping order in the stone and dirt streets.

A place for rogues to find refuge from the scrutiny of the templars and the city guards, to plan heists and other activities, and to watch drunks for the moment they misplace their coin purses.

And a place where one could find information on anything they wished. All one had to do was know the right people, and keep an open ear.

But this man, this mage, wasn't here to put his ear to the floor, to listen to what the drunks have to say or the criminals and the scum.

He was here to see a good friend.

A dwarf who had the city's merchants, the criminal gangs of Lowtown, and even some guards in his deep, deep sovereign lined pockets.

This man's name was Hawke. Garret Hawke.

A mage - an apostate some might say - and a former mercenary for the Red Iron.

And a good friend to a missing elf named Merrill.

She had been missing for two whole days, going on three with this afternoon's slow passing.

Her home was in disarray.

Hawke had seen it with his own two eyes. Something had happened, and whatever had happened she couldn't have gotten too far in the city. Hawke and his friends had deduced as much through the investigation the first day.

Talking with guards and local elves had revealed some nasty individuals had paid her a visit. That was all they knew, and the elves were afraid to divulge anymore. The guards themselves had only heard a ruckus and by the time they arrived at the scene everything had transpired and the perpetrators were long gone.

Hawke and his friends immediately began their own investigations into the mess. Hawke himself was at a loss though. She was relatively new to the city, had just finally settled into her home and got in her neighbors good graces. She had no enemies, and had constructed no grudges in the city. She was barely a threatening woman herself; with her being as threatening as a kitten was to a fully grown in this city would do her harm?

That was the question of the day, and one that plagued Hawke to no visible end.

But despite Aveline rallying her guard friends and searching the whole of Lowtown and Carver's late night searches in Darktown, Varric was really the only one who could find Merrill now.

But Varric himself had come up with nothing. No plausible suspects, no plausible locations to search, no plausible leads of any real sort. Nothing. Hawke had felt like this would lead nowhere, but he came here today in the hopes of learning something new.

It was a longshot, but anything was possible.

Hawke had a distinct feeling he hadn't long to find her, either. It was do or die, and they still had a whole city to comb through to find her.

His friend, the dwarf named Varric, had a room booked in The Hanged Man. A place where he could hide his troubles away from the city, and sit in silence as he worked through contact after contact trying to find something, or someone, that interested him. Surely he could find a missing elf?

Hawke let the question stew in his mind as he ascended the stairs to the tavern's boarding rooms. At the top, the scene was very much unsanitized. Dirty carpets in front of the doors, an overturned table in the corner with a shattered lantern sitting next to it, and flies. Flies buzzing about left and right, swarming the food that had been left on the floor.

Hawke leered at the sight, plugging his nose as he stepped over the mess. The flies scattered, and soon he was standing before the door to Varric's room.

He knocked, and heard the voice of his friend call out within.

"Come in."

Hawke looked around for a second, attempting to spot anyone nearby who would listen in. He was wary to give his quarry a reason to move on, or perhaps do worse to Merrill. Satisfied that he was alone, he opened the door and slowly entered Varric's room.

The rather large interior was atypical of a standard tavern room, looking to have been reserved for only the wealthiest of visitors and travelers in the city. It had a well made bed, a large table sitting in the middle with multiple chairs lining the sides and a couple dressers sitting by the walls.

Varric was sitting at the table at the far end, letters and notes all over. He was sitting there, holding his head and reading another note he had in his hands. He looked up from the note briefly, sighing as he noted Hawke's presence, and then shot his eyes back at the parchment. He lingered on it a moment longer before letting it fall from his grasp onto the table before him. He moved to massage his temples, voicing his agitation with the situation.

"Damnit."

Hawke took a step forward, studying the mess Varric made of the table. Notes, letters, ledgers all. Perhaps not all of it related to Merrill.

"Hawke." Varric greeted him, leaning back in his stone seat as he held his own head. He was obviously annoyed with everything going on. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"This isn't a social call, Varric." Hawke replied, striding past the table as he looked over the busywork Varric was invested in. "Although I am glad to see you."

"Likewise, Hawke. Likewise."

Hawke stopped just a chair short of the dwarf, taking his eyes off the work before him and instead cast them upon Varric. It was clear he had a headache from everything going on. His own personal business and side dealings accompanied with their missing friend has done little to ease the tension in his mind, and his headache was rather obvious.

"That bad?" Hawke asked, noting the disorganized mess of parchment and ledgers.

"Heh, you don't know the half of it." Varric started, setting his hands on the table and rummaging through the papers scattered before him. "I got the Merchant's Guild demanding I appear and settle a dispute between my brother and some human merchant, a merchant down on the docks got beaten and robbed by some thug yesterday - this merchant I happen to know by the way, a man named Mernan. Good man. Family man. Not prone to flights of fancy. - My holdings in Starkhaven are being contested by a local minister who, since I never visit the city, claims I have no actual right to them, and now a good friend of mine has gone missing in the city I call home and I can't seem to figure out where the fuck she went no matter who I ask or who I bribe." He explained, his agitation was profuse. Each word seemed to drip with it.

Hawke clicked his tongue and pulled a chair up next to the dwarf, taking a seat and keeping his ears sharp for the dwarf as he spoke. He didn't even wait for Hawke to settle in his seat and he sat up, raising his voice as a thought fell upon him.

"Y'know?" He started, squinting at the bearded man sitting next to him. "Aveline sent me a letter today. Her friends have called off the search, Lowtown's a goddamned deadend it seems. The whole of the city guard can't do anything either until she's been missing for a full week."

Hawke shook his head, annoyed at the results.

"She might not have a week, Varric."

"There's nobody who knows that better than me, Hawke. I've had merchant friends and acquaintances get kidnapped in the past. But it's always the same thing with those brigands; a ransom. We get the guards to raid the meeting spot and everyone goes home happy." Varric raised his arms up, falling back in his chair with dust flying in every direction.

"Not the bandits who got raided." Hawke pointed out, smiling softly underneath his rugged beard.

Varric smiled as well, slowly finding the means to chuckle at Hawke's attempt to lighten the situation up. He shot his eyes towards the man, and contained himself from laughing too loudly.

"Yes, I guess not. Always forget the last man, huh?" Varric added, bringing Hawke in on the joy and the laughter.

They shared it for a moment, just enjoying the change in the grim atmosphere. But soon Varric's mood stiffened, and his look got serious as he leaned forward and held his head in the palms of his hands. The stress of the situation seemed to be over-encumbering the dwarf, and Hawke sat in silence, unsure of how to proceed. He'd never had to deal with kidnappings before, not even in the Red Iron. He was a mage, not even his former boss had trusted him to handle such delicate situations.

Varric had an idea of how they go down, but with no leads and nowhere to look, Varric was at a complete loss. The perpetrators weren't demanding a ransom nor were they threatening her harm for something other than money. They just took her for no apparent or explicit reason.

"She's just up and vanished, Hawke." Varric growled into his hands, leaning even further out of his seat and face first onto the table. "Goddamn, this is so frustrating…."

"I can tell." Hawke noted, finding Varric's crestfallen state a rather uncharacteristic and new one to behold. "Tell me: Are you like this whenever the problems of being a merchant prince weigh upon you? Or is this just a seasonal thing?"

"Only when my friend's life depends on me and my connections, my dear friend." Varric admitted, lifting himself from the table and glancing at the notes and letters he had laid his face upon. Notes of summons from Starkhaven and money lending requests. "And only when that friend hasn't done a single goddamn thing to deserve what has happened." He added, picking up one of the notes he had and examining it for anything new. It seemed he hadn't gone over that one yet.

Hawke squinted for a moment, thinking of something Merrill could've done to warrant being taken. She was quite new to the city and, in the first few days she had been living here, had even broken into the gardens of the palace just to roam and admire the flowers. She could've easily been arrested for that, had she been caught. But the fact her home was in disarray spoke volumes to the nature of her attackers.

The thought of the templars finding her slowly wormed its way into his mind. His eyes widened, and the thought of her blood magic being discovered became a worrying, plausible, and real one.

"Besides the blood magic?" Hawke slowly added into the silence of the room.

"Besides the blood magic…. And even then she never used it to harm anyone.." Varric calmly answered without thinking. He continued to read the note a moment longer before stopping himself, lowering it to the table as he stared off at the possible meaning behind Hawke's words. "Are you saying she deserved to be taken? For her use of blood magic?"

"What?" Hawke replied, eyes widening at the sudden question Varric posed. He looked to the dwarf, sputtering and stammering as he rose his hands up in his own defense."I-I mean, don't get me wrong. Blood magic is awful but, no. She doesn't deserve to be taken for that. She's as harmless as a kitten, Varric."

Varric nodded, still not understanding Hawke's meaning but accepting what he had said nonetheless.

"But..." Hawke added suddenly. "There's always the possibility that the templars caught wind of her powers. They'd certainly make a big mess trying to apprehend her."

"Ain't that the goddamn truth…" Varric shook his head, having heard the rumors of how violent the city's templars could get when apprehending apostates. "Could the templars really have found her? Goddamn…. Then there's nothing we can do, Hawke. Not even my connections could bust her out of that tower."

Hawke sighed and repositioned himself in his seat, facing away from the dwarf as he found himself in his own thoughts. Varric noted his silence, and only wondered what the man was thinking of. Varric sat back in his seat, opting to continue going over the remaining correspondence he had before him.

Hawke remembered searching her home alongside Carver and Varric. Everything was a mess, the fireplace had only ash in it, her bed was messy with blankets laying all over the floor of her bedroom - a clear sign she had been caught as she was settling in - and overturned dressers and tables.

It was clear that, whoever had attacked her had not taken her easily..

But one thing remained when all else had been touched by conflict and violence.

Her Dalish staff.

Despite the intrusion, it remained under her bed. Hidden from scrutiny and from the eyes of the unobservant.

If her staff was still in her home, then the templars couldn't be to blame. They would overturn the house to find anything that even stunk of magic, and would turn it in to the Circle. Under the bed would be an easy place to search.

Hawke shook his head, not finding a certainty in the circumstances of Merrill's disappearance.

"No…. Her staff was still in her home. The templars would've confiscated it if they had apprehended her." Hawke pointed out, breaking the silence between Varric and himself. Varric arched a brow, looking up from another unread letter to take a gander at Hawke and his revelation.

Hawke remained silent ever onward though, unable to ascertain what the attackers wanted.

"Well…. Ransom's out the window. Trade-off's in the trash. Templars aren't responsible. What else is there, Varric?" Hawke asked, looking back over his shoulder at the dwarf.

Varric looked at him, and his eyes drifted to the wooden, dusty floor below for a moment. His arm faltered, and fell to his lap slowly as he thought up possible reasons they could want Merrill.

He sighed sullenly, settling on the only remaining plausible idea he could think up.

"The only thing left, Hawke, is the worst goddamn thing to ever grace this side of Thedas." He said, watching as Hawke turned back to face him fully, begging Varric with his expression alone to continue. Varric could only exhale, finding the whole idea atrocious, but possible - and likely - in many regards. "That would be slavery, Hawke."

Hawke paused and looked to his friend, his eyes deepening when that horrendous word was mentioned. Varric stared back at him, his lips deepening into a frown as the two locked eyes for a moment. Hawke was easily startled with the given idea.

"Slavery…. Maker…" Hawke muttered, leaning into his knees as he thought of something to say. But for once, he was silent. No sly comeback. No optimistic remarks. Just pure, unadulterated silence. Varric was silent as well, understanding well where Hawke was coming from; Hawke having been in indentured service for a full year. It was almost as if he was a slave himself in the past.

Might as well have been, really.

"If… if that's the case then we have to find her Varric." Hawke piped up, keeping a firm stare locked onto the floorboards below. He was trying to think of something he could do to make a difference in the situation, but for once he was at a loss. "She's too sweet to deserve that fate."

"I'm doing my very best, Hawke." Varric replied, picking up letter after letter and holding them up for Hawke to see. "But Kirkwall's a big city. I've got contacts scouring the dark streets and alleys and I've been questioning the scumbags I pay to make sure Merrill's midnight wanderings are safe and danger free. There's only so much I can do when we don't have any leads, Hawke."

Hawke, defeated, sank in his seat. His conscience, on a good level, felt guilty for even bringing her to the city in the first place. Even at the request of her keeper, it was something he knew to be dangerous. Especially for a clueless woman like her. But still he brought her, hoping she could take care of herself.

Judging from the state her home was in, she tried fighting them off. But they had overpowered her.

She might be able to handle herself in a fight, but for all Hawke knows she could've willingly let her attackers in under the pretenses of meeting new friends. After all, she was hoping to get mugged in her alienage at some point, not understanding that mugging isn't a friendly greeting but rather a physical assault and a crime.

Hawke shook his head, finding that the whole situation was sending his mind swimming. A headache was coming on, and his worry for his friend only deepened the pulsating pain. Varric dropped the letters before clasping his hands together, sighing and letting Hawke have a moment to dull his headache.

A few moments passed, the only noise being the dim, subtle conversations and music of the tavern below.

Out of the blue, Varric faked a cough and spoke out a new situation. One that tied in with their current predicament.

"Well…. Some news I guess. Whether it's good or not is up for you to decide." Varric said, eyeing a note that had fallen to the floor. He stood up for a moment to acquire it before sliding back into his chair. "Isabela - you know, that pirate we met the other day - found a lead, apparently. She's been following up on it since yesterday. That scumbag thief who roughed up Mernan. I… mentioned him earlier."

Hawke slid up in his seat, listening to what Varric had to say with a small bit of curiosity. Small, but equalled in confusion.

"Didn't we just meet Isabela?" Hawke asked, confused as to why she's getting involved. "Why is she sticking her nose into this?"

"We spoke last night. Apparently she feels that she owes us for helping her out with that Hayder bastard." Varric explained matter-of-factly. "Anyways, she's looking into the situation herself and, frankly, I say let her go for it. She's a criminal herself, those bastards would be more willing to talk with her than with me at any rate."

Hawke chuckled. Even with his worry and his headache, he managed to strike out something damp with wit.

"But you're the one with the money, Varric. Not Isabela."

Varric chuckled in turn, subtly nodding at the joke given to him.

"True, Hawke. True." Varric agreed, his grin being enough to lighten up the situation for them both. "But if I had my way, I'd either have a team of guards raid them or use that money to hire some brutes to kick the shit out of those dogfuckers. Whichever one sounded more amusing."

"We can't rely on the guards for this, Varric." Hawke added in, his tone returning a place for the serious business Hawke originally came here for. Varric looked up at him, and grunted a response initially. Aveline's been as helpful as she could get, but even the city guard have their limits to how useful they can be. One week. Merrill didn't have that long. They both knew it, and thus they had to take a chance.

A chance on Isabela.

"No. So I guess if nothing comes in on my end, we're gonna have to rely on the pirate." Varric conceded with a slim frown and narrowed eyes. This was all they could do. All they were capable of doing at this point, really.

Hawke didn't say anything. For, even though he didn't say it, he agreed with the dwarf's words. Isabela would probably get criminals to open up more to her than a merchant prince could, no matter how large a sum Varric could offer. It was as if criminals had a secret code of ethics that they upheld between one another, and only spoke of certain things to other criminals.

Hawke had connections himself, but not to the extent Varric did, let alone a pirate scourge. He was known for being able to complete any task given to him. A task such as this he would never forgive himself for failing.

For now, everything rested in Isabela's hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proof read by a good friend who goes by the name Frozen Foe.


	7. Chapter 7 - A Pirate Captain

Despite the worries and the troubles he had throughout the day, this was easily the highlight of it all.

Him enjoying a nice relaxing evening alone at The Hanged Man.

Someone else finally took over the guard duty of the little elf called Merrill.

Coin to be spent.

A fun night to be had.

The day of guard duty and the little afternoon he had of wandering the city had finally bore fruit for him. He intended not to waste it.

Dirhael wanted him back before the moon was at its peak, but Roy didn't really have a single care what Dirhael wanted. He was absolutely annoyed with the elf and his money pocketing ways. He figured a little time away from him would do himself plenty of good.

He sat there, alone at a table. Far away from the prying eyes of the other patrons. His sword under the table, and a cold mug in his hands.

The fireplace crackled nearby, and the loud cackling and conversations were present in the room. Everyone drifted in from their work. Templars, guards, and other people of interest in the city had come in to see their friends and drink away the coin they had made today. Like real men, with calluses on their hands and blisters on their feet, they wanted to enjoy the reward for their bitter labor.

Roy's rear was sore from sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair for eight hours straight, and the seat the tavern offered wasn't any better. In fact, it seemed this one had a loose leg and it wobbled something fierce whenever he adjusted himself. He would silently curse his luck to get the one wobbly chair in the building, but dealt with it nonetheless. If it was the price to pay to be alone, he would take it.

Gladly.

No elf to bother him.

No captive to watch over, nor feed, nor grant a piss bucket.

No bad-tempered dwarf giving him a hard time.

No nothing.

Just him, a beer, and his thoughts.

A recipe for a fine evening.

He sipped at his beer, and looked around. Noting the patronage.

A full complement of guards, still in uniform, were by the bar area. Laughing, drinking, and some were even singing. Slapping the table along with their tunes as they sung something that sounded vaguely Orlesian.

A couple of dwarves were sitting by the stairs to the rental rooms. They looked to be armed and up to nothing good, but Roy cared little. What their business happened to be was not his concern, nor did he want it to be.

The waitress, Norah, was walking with a tray of ale and beer, bumbling between the tables and handing out drink after drink to the sloppy Lowtown residents that filled this place to its brim.

Not a single elf to be seen.

Drunken peasants abound.

No royal types to be found.

Just his type of company, really.

A scantily clad woman with a blue head rag was by the bar as well, just standing there. Doing as Roy did. Watching the patronage as he was. Eyeing everyone up and down either in interest or sheer boredom.

Something about this woman struck him as familiar, but he brushed it off as he has often seen unique people in this place. She was nothing special to gawk at.

His curiosity satisfied, he turned back to his drink and whiled away the night alone with his thoughts and his beer.

Occasionally he would refill his mug, pay Norah for another, and down it within the hour. He had enough to buy a full keg of beer so he wasn't worried about running out. He also had developed a tolerance to the effects of alcohol - a byproduct of his many years with the demon drink. However, he knew he'd be feeling the effects tomorrow as the amount he intended to drink would be enough to knock a teetotaller on their rear end, if not knock them out completely.

The beer was always strong at The Hanged Man. If that didn't give him a kick in the head, one he desperately needed after his rather annoying day, nothing would.

His mind wandered as he sat there. Relaxed, he began to wonder what his gang saw in Dirhael.

Sure he was a charismatic leader and a shrewd negotiator, but the temper on him was one akin to the Maker's fury. But with his temper came an air positivity, an oxymoron as that is. He tried to always remain upbeat and positive around everyone else. Roy always felt a wave of condescendence with this supposed positivity but that was Roy.

One thing that Dirhael knew how to do was select the right man for a job. Whether it be to rough up a merchant or provide muscle for a certain someone, Dirhael knew just who to send. It was clear to Roy that Dirhael didn't think much of Roy. His condescending attitude spoke that much knowledge. But Dirhael used him for the right jobs, sometimes for himself and sometimes for the gang.

But Roy couldn't help but think this last job was for himself really. Himself and his personal relationships with other criminal creditors in the city.

Roy shook his head and simply pouted for a moment, not imagining his life going this way. Under the boot of a man he disliked, and who equally disliked him. A man who used him. A man who took from him all the spoils of a job well done.

He imagined that, at this point in his life, he'd be running his own gang. With Eleana and Elroy his right and left hands respectively. He couldn't care less about Filgins and Menien was an academic. He's always talking about going home and finishing his education in the chantry. Become a chanter in his retirement.

Roy couldn't think of anything more boring than that.

But even without Menien and Filgins, Roy could get a lot done. Hire the right goons, gain a little notoriety. His gang could become a smashing success.

Yet instead he's here. In Kirkwall. Following the commands of an elf he disliked only because he had nothing else and nowhere to go. Menien had said earlier today that some of them didn't choose this life out of necessity. He had no idea how hard that really hit Roy. He didn't show it, but it smacked him like a sack of bricks.

If it was, it would've broken his neck on impact.

Roy couldn't help feel a little upset at that remark, but he tried not to let it get to him. Menien probably didn't mean it in ill-will.

"Probably."

He sipped at his beer, smacking his lips as he played what Menien said in his head over and over again. Then, eventually, the thought died out as he focused on other things. Things such as the approaching hand off of Merrill. He'd never met a Tevinter before, at least not in person. He's read letters from them before, and the rest of his gang had met one in the past. Apparently they are really powerful mages and avid slavers. He's heard stories of how the economy in Tevinter is backed by slaves and magic, and that the templars there have an entirely different creed then that of the rest of the Templar Order across Thedas.

It would be an interesting meeting. Perhaps the Tevinters would grace them with a really hefty sum since the product they were purchasing was Dalish AND a mage. He imagined they'd be drooling by the time the word was fully realized.

He had a dim smile, but when he thought about how Dirhael would take most of the coin they earned, if not all, that smile faded into obscurity.

Suddenly, in his quiet thought, he felt a burning sensation.

It was as if a small hole was being burnt into the side of his skull.

He shifted in his seat a moment, uncomfortable with the feeling. He then turned his eyes around the room, attempting to locate the one who was watching him. But the crowd was too thick. Too many people and too many voices to locate a single person. The feeling lingered a bit longer, and he tried to ignore it further on. Drinking what little beer he had left and attempting to drown the feeling away.

But it wouldn't vanish. It only persisted. To the point he felt almost vulnerable to the unseen watcher.

They were there amongst the crowd, but where he did not know.

Until, suddenly, a voice piped up nearby. He turned to look for it, and to his great surprise it was the woman with the blue head rag.

"Buy a lady a drink?"

The tanned woman was smiling and standing over him, a small piercing below her lips shined in the dim light, and for a moment Roy was confused. He looked her over. From a distance, she looked scantily clad, but up close it appears that it would be too strong a sentiment. She was indeed showing enough skin, but not all of it.

Thigh high boots, black hair that reached just to her shoulders, large gold earrings, a thin, sleeveless white tunic that covered her rather large breasts - showing off just enough cleavage to make any man swoon in their boots - with the shirttail ending a couple of inches above her thighs, and a necklace made of gold and jewels decorating her neck. Two daggers sat by her sides, pointed and sharp. But each one was unique in its design and looked very, very expensive.

Roy just looked at her, sipped at his beer, and shook his head as he responded.

"I don't mingle with strangers, friend." His eyes fell to her chest, and he slowly added: "No matter how good the assets are. Back off, please."

The woman blinked for a moment and let out a loud, disappointed huff. She crossed her arms and stepped forward towards the thief.

"So you're gonna make me buy myself something tart?" She remarked, noting his unappreciated dismissal of her. "How chivalrous." She frowned.

But Roy merely chuckled at the notion of chivalry and shot a look up at her.

"I'm not a knight nor a templar, lady. I don't abide by chivalry." Roy said, meeting her amber eyes with his dark browns. "Perhaps you should put the moves on one of the guards over there." Roy pointed over towards the group of uniformed guards, chuckling as she followed his finger with a disgusted sneer. "They'd appreciate your company."

She sneered at the sight, but soon brought her eyes back onto Roy. He wasn't paying anymore attention and was busy pretending that she didn't exist. She huffed, and replied: "Yeah, they might. But I'm not interested in them. Or any man in a uniform, really."

Roy looked up at her and chuckled once more.

"Really? You seem the type to be after that. The power? The money? The prestige?"

"Sweety, trust me." She laughed away, leaning on his table with a sway in her hips. "There's no such thing as prestige when you're with a man of the law. Just puppetry and hypocrisy. It's all that awaits a woman like me."

He noted the tone she was using, and waved her off once more. Conveying further that he was uninterested in lying with her, as it seemed that was her intent with him. On some level, a little sense of pride in his own appearance burned. But he wasn't the type to sleep around.

"Lady, listen. You look ravishing, but I don't go for whores. I have my own self respect. Please, go away."

And he was indeed not lying, she looked great. Young, supple, she looked to be unafraid to be adventurous. The eye candy she presented wasn't a bad sight to behold either, but a whore was a whore, and there was no self respect in the profession.

Neither was there any partaking in the action.

Just a nasty business where one snuck out of the room when the other was asleep. Money wasted, a night wasted, and perhaps even a disease to be caught.

The woman looked at him a moment, and then slowly laughed as she realized what he was thinking was the complete opposite of what she was thinking. Roy looked back at her, a confused look on his face and he set his mug down and opened his mouth to say something. She stopped him with a finger to his lips, and caught herself.

"You'd be one of the rare ones then, sweety." She said, smiling at him. Roy removed her finger from his lips and wiped away any of the filth she may've given him. "Well, I'd say it's a good thing I'm not after your willy then. But trust me, if I was after it, I'd get it. I….have my ways." She winked, throwing her chest forward and shooting a look to her cleavage with a very randy smile.

Roy, having wiped his lips clean, chuckled at her words and actions while letting a smile creep on his face. A complete misunderstanding had occurred, and Roy felt somewhat embarrassed at that. He felt even more embarrassed at having mistaken her for a prostitute. They frequented the tavern at night and he had been approached more than once in the past. The trade wasn't illegal, and no one was hornier than a drunk man with coin in his pocket.

In a way, prostitutes were thieves as well. Just living by a different creed than that of the Coterie.

Roy directed his smile at her, and questioned her presence.

"I'm sure you'd attempt so… But you're not here to seduce me?" He asked, raising a brow. "You look the type…. Well, what is it you want then?" He added, eyeing her up and down for any answer to his query.

He couldn't find one.

"May I sit down?" She asked, gesturing to a seat next to Roy. He looked at it and, with his curiosity peaked, allowed it.

"By all means, if you're here to talk. Anything else and I'll send you away." He said, patting the seat next to him.

She took the seat, leaning forward on the table and making herself comfortable. Roy sipped at his beer and eyed her in his peripheral, wary of her daggers and somewhat concerned with her business with him. He made a mental note to the location of his sword.

"I don't think I caught your name, madam…" He mentioned, turning to face her fully. She smiled and replied with a low tone, one that indicted she wasn't interested in names.

"Names are for friends, sweety."

Roy looked at her, then shrugged at her words. To a very good degree, he didn't really care.

"Fair enough…. Well, what do you want from me? I assume you didn't come here to chat with a drunkard…"

"No, I in fact did not." She affirmed. "So I'll keep it simple and quick: I'm looking for someone."

"Ah, are you now?" Roy asked, swishing the beer around in his mug. He brought the mug up and looked inside of it a moment, swishing it further as he added "...and what makes you think I can help you?"

The woman paused and watched him for a moment, carefully thinking about her next choice of words. All the while Roy took a swig of his stirred up beer and waited patiently for her answer. It bothered him a little that she was quiet, but then again he didn't even know her. He wasn't bothered by the opinion or the attitude of someone he didn't even know.

"Because you look like a man who's been around." She finally said, her tone getting serious. "You look like a man who has friends. Friends with connections. Friends with pockets. Friends who also have friends. Surely you see a lot of people where you come from?"

Roy frowned, quickly understanding that she was delving into territory she hadn't any business in. He waved her off, turning away from her and disengaging from the conversation..

"Sorry. Can't help you."

The woman sat there a moment, blinking as he stared at the table ahead of him. For a moment she wasn't sure if she had heard that right. That he wasn't interested in helping her out.

She leaned towards him, inching her seat close to him and tapping him on the arm. He turned to look at her, narrowing his eyes.

"I said I can't help you."

"Trust me sweety, I've been around the block, met a lot of people in my life. Rutted with a good lot of them too, and I can safely say that I can spot a cutthroat just by looking at them."

Roy blinked. Her serious look took him by surprise and he certainly showed it. He brought the mug to his mouth to take a sip, but he felt nothing but a stone cup on his lips. He looked inside, and gave an annoyed sigh as he set it down. He looked back at her, and bade her to continue.

"I know you think I'm just a pair of tits and a pretty face, and on some level you'd be right. But this pair of tits is looking for a friend of a friend. She's gone missing. I know you can help. So, if sex isn't what you're after, perhaps I can entice you with a little…" She held up in her hand a coin purse. She shook it, the jingling of its contents turning a few heads nearby. "...coin, perhaps?"

Roy looked at the purse, and then at her. He asked her much was in it, and she didn't hesitate an answer. She told him that there was enough in there to get him drunk and laid for three nights. Roy couldn't help but smile and he twisted in his seat to face her.

"Now you're talking my language, friend." Roy chuckled, eyeing the coin purse as she sat it down next to her on the table. "Maybe I can help, maybe I can't. I can't promise you anything. But you're right. I _do_ know people. So if I haven't seen your friend, I might know someone who has."

The woman chuckled, and she relaxed in her seat. She crossed her legs and leaned on the back of her chair, throwing an arm over it and getting as comfortable as she could get in these ever so uncomfortable wooden seats.

"Thought that might get your attention." She commented, smiling at the man. But Roy wasn't interested in anything but business talk now. With coin on the table, he was more than willing to help.

"Who is she?" He asked, maintaining a serious demeanour as he eyed the coin purse sitting on the table. His eyes were greedy, and the woman could see it. " Maybe I've heard her name floating about?"

The woman hummed for a second before telling him. "Her name, well, it's Merrill."

Roy stopped himself. The spoken name suddenly brought onto him a feeling of surprise, yet he tried not to show it. It was difficult, the urge to be silent was huge and he felt his eyes widen at her words. He blinked, and spoke with an attempt at a solemn tone.

"Hmm… No.. No, I'm sorry. Never heard of her." He said, trying his best to avoid stammering and giving anything away.

A human. Looking for her. For Merrill. For their captive.

" _Why?_ " Roy thought. " _What business had she with an elf?_ "

There were questions buzzing around in his mind, but none he could ask without giving away what he knew. A friend of a friend? What friends in this city did a Dalish elf possess? Were they looking for her?

But one question rang around in his mind, one that seemed more important than all the rest.

Who exactly was this woman?

"Well. That's just too bad then." She said with a sullen sigh. It seemed fake, but Roy barely noticed. He was more concerned with not giving anything away. "Because my friend, a good fellow named Hawke, could pay more than what I can offer for her safe return…. Perhaps you know of someone who knows her? Or at least knows where she went?"

Roy stopped breathing.

At first, he wasn't sure he had heard her correctly.

" _Did she just say the name "Hawke"?_ "

At first, he didn't believe it.

" _The infamous mercenary for the Red Iron?!_ "

But she had said it. Clear as day, she had uttered the name of Hawke. Garret Hawke.

_The Red Iron mercenary..._

_He_ was looking for Merrill? What business had he with a Dalish mage such as her? Could there be a bounty on her head? Or perhaps her clan hired him to find her? Or perhaps the people in the Alienage? Certainly they would miss a Dalish mage that made residence with them?

" _No…._ " Roy thought." _She said "Friend of a friend"... They're friends…._ "

"Is something wrong?" The woman asked, arching a brow as she watched the man before her tense up. "You seem….shaken."

Roy realized now he wasn't breathing and slowly began to take in a deep breath. He tried not to give anything off, but inside he felt warm. A small ounce of fear peered into his mind, and for a while after all he could feel was a sense of dread.

Hawke was known in the criminal underworld. Known as a man who could get any job done, as long as it didn't involve the templars. He would kill raiders and bandits, maleficar and carta thugs with no remorse. He could find anyone in the city, all he needed was a little incentive to do so.

Not to mention the very fact he was well connected. Poison makers, potion brewers, armorers, blacksmiths, runecrafters. He knew just about all the people a mercenary would need to know in this city, and if he doesn't have any leads on his query, they no doubt did. Without even a fee, either, since they knew him well.

Hawke, indeed, was not a man to be crossed. He would find you, eventually, and you better not have crossed him. Maker help you if you did.

Roy knew this, and it was this knowledge that scared him.

" _By the Maker….. What have we done?!_ "

He feared no man. But what he did fear was his friends falling victim to the wrath of a powerful and influential person.

Hawke was this person. And they had just wronged him something fierce.

"Just...thinking of the name you just mentioned… Hawke sounds…. Familiar." Roy stumbled on his words.

The woman sat there a moment, watching him. She then chuckled, and looked to have relaxed a little.

"Really? Well, I suppose how you know him is your business. But back to my original question: Do you know anyone who may've heard of her, of Merrill?"

"No… No… I don't think I know anyone who's heard of a " _Merrill_ "." Roy dismissed her, turning back towards his mug while trying to maintain a level head. He planned, as soon as this woman left him be, to head back to Dirhael's Folly and alert Dirhael of who exactly is looking for them now. "I'm sorry, madam."

The woman looked a bit disappointed in his words, but seemed to have accepted them nonetheless. But instead of thanking him and moving on she lingered. She took her coin purse and stashed it away, but remained in her seat a while longer. She was quiet, as well.

Roy noticed her hesitation to depart and looked at her questionably.

"...I told you, already. I don't know anything. Hawke's just gonna have to keep looking."

The woman smiled, and with a glance to the floor she opened up. Her tone was very serious, and malice bled into her words.

"Alright, let's drop the act. I've been tailing you since yesterday…. It's really no coincidence we're in the same tavern together…."

Roy let his expression drop and faced her fully.

"You know where Merrill is. You _and_ your friends." She said, staring a malicious hole into Roy's eyes. "If you value everything you hold dear, you'll tell me where she is."

Roy stared at her, and he held his tongue as she watched him closely. He kicked his sword close, and stamped a boot on the blade below him.

"Don't bother." She said, having witnessed the subtle act. "Neither of us are stupid enough to go at each other's throats. We have uniformed guards standing right over there. For now, you have nothing to fear from me."

Roy remained silent and clasped his hands together on his lap. As close as he could to his sword. She was right, they had no business crossing blades when the guards were right there. But it didn't mean he couldn't be ready to defend himself should she lose her patience.

Those daggers at her sides looked especially life threatening….

She noted his silence and chuckled under her breath.

"That's the same as admitting to it, y'know?" She told him, then leaned forward on the table, keeping Roy within her line of sight as best she could. "See, I'm an expert at the game of Wicked Grace… Played it with so many people - including that one dwarf….. The Hero of Ferelden, I'm sure you heard of 'im" She said, boasting unnecessarily about playing some card game with a dead hero. "To play it for as long as I have, you have to be able to tell when people are cheating and lying. Catching them in the act is juicier than just calling them out on it, sweety…"

"Is it, now?" Roy asked, scooting his chair outwards. He was going to attempt to ditch her, but he wasn't trying to make it obvious. But it didn't matter. She was perceptive. Leagues more than him. She just frowned and looked at him, scoffing as he scooted away.

"You can leave now, if you want. I'd be arrested if I tried to stop you. Maker knows I don't need the heat right now." She sighed. "But if you think for one moment you're gonna get away with this, oho, then you are sorely mistaken."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, and frankly, I don't care. I'm leaving." Roy stood up, grabbed his sword, and turned away. As he took a step forward, he felt a hand grab his arm and suddenly he found himself pulled downwards. He was now face to face with the mystery woman who just wouldn't leave him alone.

"Harm one hair on her head, and I'll cut off your balls and " _misplace_ " them in the tavern's stew…. You've been warned, you blighted scum." She warned him, her anger and distaste for him boiling to the point it overflowed. Roy just blinked, and then shrugged off her grasp before making his exit. As he stormed out, he bumped shoulders with a passing patron; spilling their ale all over their shirt and pants, and the patron just turned and watched Roy depart.

Not so much of a word was spoken when he saw that Roy was armed.

The woman, unknown to Roy, was a pirate captain herself. The scourge of two seas and four nations. She may've recently lost her ship and crew, but that didn't make her any less deadly or dangerous. Her name was Isabela, and her distaste for slavers was immense.

She looked back at the table they had been sitting at and sighed. Cursing Roy under her breath, and the guards nearby for simply being present. Had they not, she would've got what she needed from Roy, then slit his throat for his horrendous actions.

But instead, she'll have to find another way to find out where they're keeping her. She smiled, and lowered her head.

She has just the idea in mind...

"I'll be seeing you soon."

* * *

Dirhael clicked his tongue, looking over the fine jewelry he held in his hands.

A diamond necklace and pearl rings made out of pure gold. A fine haul that was sure to be worth several sovereigns.

Eleana had managed to seduce her way into a nobleman's home. While he was busy getting ready for what he believed to be a fun time, she went through the wife's lockbox and took everything of value. She then vanished into the streets, leaving the nobleman the nasty job of explaining to his wife why her valuables had gone missing.

She was such a gem to have within the gang, caring for the boys when they do something stupid - which was always - and using her rather sharp intuition to bring in the sovereigns.

Of course, she wouldn't see a copper of it.

Dirhael's got other plans for the money.

Eleana was no doubt asleep by now, as was most everybody else. Elroy was watching the front door and Menien was doing his rounds of captive duty. Unlike the rest, Menien treated the captive with a semblance of respect and gave her the means of fortitude through her rather nasty predicament. Dirhael's would sometimes go to the second floor and listen in on their talks. They talked often.

Mostly of what the Dalish were like. Who they worshipped. How they lived.

A stark contrast to how elves live in the cities is what she described.

She was all too happy to talk with Menien, and Dirhael allowed it. At least for the time being.

She used words foreign to the both of them at times, Dalish words. Words of ancient meaning and purpose. She would explain what they meant to the man guarding her, eliciting a hearty laugh from the man when he realized she could teach him some Dalish.

Then they would talk about magic.

But this subject was something the elf was hesitant to discuss. For one reason or another, she didn't make it clear why.

But none of it interested Dirhael. He was just fine knowing that the captive was unharmed and that she wasn't resisting them like she could. Instead she was calm and obedient.

Dirhael couldn't have asked for an easier mark.

He would quickly find himself alone in his study again, surrounded by books. The ever present knowledge he liked to engorge himself in, for he was not entirely a rogue. Like Menien, he enjoyed a good philosophical debate. But he'd rather discuss such things with people outside the gang, lest those he holds near think less of him for supporting the supposed greater of two evils.

But even with the books he surrounded himself with, all that he managed to afford with the wealth he has stashed away, he could never rightly afford a lock on his door.

For the door opened, and Dirhael scrambled to hide the jewelry away. He wasn't fast enough, and despite the fact he had placed it in his desk, the newcomer saw it clear as day.

"Did I….interrupt something?" They had asked.

It was Roy. He was staring at Dirhael with a risen brow, slightly amused with Dirhael's flustered state. Dirhael glanced at the bijouterie in his desk, and slammed it shut with a dismissal of Roy's question.

"Next time, knock Roy." Dirhael more or less ordered the man. He sunk back in his seat, and watched the human with both a small degree of interest and an equal degree of annoyance. "You don't often visit me of your own volition, Roy. What news do you bring?" He asked. He understood well that Roy had something to say. Why else would Roy be here?

The thief took a step forward, eyeing the elf with a disgusted glare as he knew the elf was hiding some valuables from his view. This wouldn't be the first time he's done it, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But it was disgusting every time.

Unblinking, and with a serious stare, he said:

"Dirhael, we gotta have a chat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proof read by a good friend who goes by the name Frozen Foe.


End file.
